#and idk really it just comes back to the jawline and frame of face again im not taking some Moral stance but blonde dean activates my

[sinisterexaggerator]

Don't make such a fuss.

Crosshair x Fem! Reader

Warnings: None. A kiss and a little sass. Theft of a toothpick. Fluff I guess.

Word count: 615

Notes: I normally write very graphic smut for Cad Bane. This is my first time writing anything for Crosshair, and I may never do so again, idk. Thinking this is CW era. Maybe Crosshair fancies a girl on Coruscant and visits when he can. Wanted to recreate the "reader steals Bane's toothpick" ask.

You were anxious though you did not speak. The man beside you remained stoic, silent, and unreadable as you walked together through the Gardens of Equality. It was situated within the senatorial plaza, your home away from home. You paused in a quiet spot then turned to face him.

“Do you really have to go again so soon?” you asked, your mood perhaps conveyed unwittingly by the prosody of your voice. Crosshair had just returned from his last mission and already he was being recalled to the field alongside his squad.

His footfalls ceased. You pivoted to see him a pace behind, bucket stowed loosely beneath his arm as he shifted his weight to one thin leg, an eyebrow having arched as he looked at you with incredulous curiosity.

“Orders are orders,” he said laconically, though the expression that overtook you made the corner of his mouth twitch, indiscernible to anyone not trained in the fine art of subtle human gestures.

“I know. I just wish we had more time together,” you admitted, your heartbeat decidedly louder now as it echoed in your ears. You felt your cheeks flush, the sniper studying you as you stared purposefully at his boots.

Those boots came closer. You sucked in a tiny inhalation much too quickly, a breath that you held onto as Crosshair enveloped the point of your chin in his wiry grasp.

“Patience,” he instructed you in a soothing tone, the vertex of his thumb grazing your jawline until it traveled in a downward slope, brushing across your bottom lip. Dark eyes regarded yours as he lifted your head, the clone somehow reassuring you with his gaze alone. You exhaled slowly, nodding lightly in understanding, though deep inside every atom in your being screamed at you not to let him leave.

He knew something was still not quite right.

“Come now, kitten,” he teased, his tone taking on a gentle lilt as he aligned his undoubtedly taller frame against your body, “don’t make such a fuss.” The man towered, dipping low to skim the surface of your lips before he softly applied pressure, your mouth parting to allow his warm tongue to skirt past your teeth and swirl and dance alongside yours.

It was short and sweet, the scruff of his five’o’clock shadow like sandpaper against your skin though you would not complain. Crosshair pulled away, withdrawing a toothpick from out of the confines of his armor as he finally released your chin, his other arm still wholly occupied by his helmet.

“Keep an eye out,” he quipped smugly, placing said toothpick between his pearly premolars, that silver tongue he had used to kiss you rolling it to one side as he shoved it to the corner of his cheek.

You cracked a smile, eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall but that you somehow managed to maintain. You made to card your fingers through his hair and he allowed it, though he intensely held your gaze. Your palm slipped lower as you desired to cup his well-honed mandible in the crook of your hand. Then, you had the abrupt urge to be mischievous.

You did not think twice as you swiped his toothpick.

“I’ll keep this, too,” you remarked, your smile growing wider as you playfully positioned it to mirror his stance.

He was quick to snatch it back, but only so he could reintroduce his mouth to yours. You exuded a hushed whimper as you melted against his forceful show, Crosshair leaving you a disheveled mess so that he might replace his implement where it rightfully belonged.

“Stay out of trouble,” he directed in reference to your impromptu theft, your mercurial paramour sauntering off deliberately with the knowledge you would be pining for his quick return.

[bellehalla]

Do you think you could describe the appearances of our main soldiers? ( heishi, weald, etc.)

hello love!! omg i hope you're still around

AHH i adore the main soldiers so much! I try not to give too much description when it comes to my characters since I let readers interpret them from their personality and character in the story instead. But there had been some questions regarding their appearances (like Ilya, which @escapismnotfound illustrated!! check out their blog and art!!) so I guess it's time I give some of them some faces. Officially leaving MC as the only faceless one lmaoooo

And oh boy, this is ONE LENGTHY post. I enjoyed writing it <3

Ewald

nation: Mondstadt

height: 5'4

shortest one in the company. idk if you remember but in chapter 1, he had facial hair but had to shave it off around chapter 3 when the program officially started. he's short, stocky, and kinda looks like a human version of a pug. he grew out his black hair which is probably the same length as MC's which reaches their shoulders, but you won't really notice it since he always have it up as well. he has accentuated jowls and his cheeks kinda hang that make him look tough. i referenced him from one of the characters in Mulan, Yao! (same vibe too)

Jurgen

nation: Mondstadt

height: 6'1

the Dad of the group. Jurgen's another Mondstadtian. he's tall, has broad shoulders and beefy arms that make him seem like he gives great hugs (he does). he's soft-faced, and has high cheekbones. every time he smiles his cheeks get so round. also has brown eyes. same haircut as Huffman, but has caramel colored hair.

Heishi

nation: Inazuma

height: 6'4

he already has an impressive height, but his face tops it all. he's slim-faced with prominent cheekbones and straight nose, framed by his midnight blue curls. he's more lean than buff, but he's trying to pack up some muscles. if it weren't for his military uniform, it's easy to see him as another man from a prominent family. his ruggedness is more from his VERY unruly hair.

Ira

nation: Mondstadt

height: 6'0

the clown of the group. Ira's very lanky despite his appetite. he's kinda cute if he knows how to dress and carry himself. with his sharp jawline, tall nose, and short ginger hair, he could really pull the ladies (don't tell him this). but alas his charm is in his crooked smile. take it as it is. he doesn't mean anything bad when he smiles big and wide.

Hiroto

nation: Inazuma

height: 6'5

big and tough, a bit buffer compared to Heishi. long dark hair that reaches the middle of his back. unlike Ewald and Rin, Hiroto likes to let his hair loose, so sometimes the soldiers see it. square jawline and heavy brow ridge that makes him look angry all the time. though fun fact, he's very attentive to his eyebrows and prefers to keep them clean and plucked. there's just so much to know about this guy.

Kita & Kenji

nation: Inazuma

height: 6'2

they're not twins...as far as they know. but they do look so much alike save for their builds. when Kita first appeared (oh and fun fact again, Kita was the one that egged Rin on during their first day when she fought Ewald) he had short grey hair. Kenji convinced him to shave his hair into a buzzcut, so now they're sporting the same haircut. they're quite youthful in their appearance as they have a more rounded face. Kenji's face is sharper compared to Kita. Also, Kenji's upper body is quite bulky, but Kita's trying to catch up (he's almost as thin as Ira, so it might take awhile to bulk up).

Luka

nation: Mondstadt

height: 5'9

does anyone remember this guy? he's not that significant, but i have to balance out the count per nation lmao. he has yellow hair. handsome with his big round eyes, and high cheekbones. though he's more adorable than handsome, really.

[jules1331]

Out of the Ordinary

Prince Gristle x Y/n

Trope- Friends to lovers

Word count- idk not that long

Summary- What happens when a normal village bergan falls in love with the prince?

WARNINGS- some cussing, very mushy love at the end, they make out, cringe

Authors note- this is completely satire yall, anyways have fun!

______________<3_______________<3_________________<3_________

“Honey, wake up! It’s Trolltice!” yelled father

“COMINGGGGG!!!” I yelled out over the loud music that was playing above me, darn our upstairs neighbors were reckless, couldn’t they see she was having an end of the life crisis?!?!

“I swear to the dead fungus if you don’t come out of your room right this instant Y/n Finkler, you will not like what is coming!” screeched mom banging on the old wooden table in the kitchen. “OKAY OKAY OKAY I’M COMING OUT RIGHT NOW!” I fired back, “YOUNG BERGAN ARE YOU TALKING BACK TO ME? OUT. NOW.”

If her day wasn’t bad enough already, her parents were super duper pissed at her. Trolltice, the only one and single day a year that grants all bergans joy. Along with celebrating Trolltice, the king was hosting his son, the prince, his 19th birthday party too. Oh that prince wasn’t just any ordinary prince, oh no no, he was THE Prince Gristle Jr. If he wasn’t in every single girls wet dreams, he was partying every night and dating left and right, leaving girls hearts broken. She wouldn’t really have noticed since her head was always in a good book or her head down low at Bergan Highschool, he had noticed her.

3 MONTHS EARLIER

“Hm, is Prince Gristle here?” the teacher called out taking attendance.

“Huh? Here.” Prince Gristle said stumbling into the class mumbling the “here” under his breath.

Your wide brown orbs widened quickly as the once empty spot next to you (you were always a loner) was filled by Prince Gristle! You gasped and gawked at him. How could he be so cute and hot at the same time? His dark green fluffy hair had been messy in bed and was messily tossed on his head, contouring his defined jawline as he clenched his jaw and let out a yawn. His eyes fluttered open as he shot a quick glance at you, slowly his plump lips turned into a small grin as he smiled at you quietly chuckling a low chuckle, gosh how was he so h- “MS y/n FINKLER, STOP DAYDREAMING I ASKED MULTIPLE TIMES IF YOU WERE HERE, PLEASE START PAYING ATTENTION.”

I snapped my head back at the teacher shame taking over me and my cheeks being overcome with a strawberry pink hue dusting over my face and neck. I heard a few other people snicker before the teacher shushed them and continued on with attendance. I slowly lowered my head, my midnight black locks falling out of my messy braid framing my small petite face. I snuck a glance towards my right, glancing at the prince again. He was looking at me and smiling? I whispered at him, “Why are you looking at me?” he chuckled and whisper-yelled back, “Your just so funny, is your name really Y/n? You look like i could call you min-“

“ Mr. Gristle and Ms. Finkler. Please see me after class.” the teacher stated shooting glares at us like we had targets on our faces.

Prince Gristle nudged my elbow and leaned his framed body closer to mine and i could feel his body heat radiating off of him. “Hey, atleast since we’re in trouble we get to know each better.”

I swallowed quietly, i’ve never been in trouble before and i could almost feel his plump lips on the shell of my ear. Chills ran through me. I knew that if i had moved my head to the right a little we would’ve kissed.

PRESENT

As me and my friend, Mia trudged through the huge masses of people here for Trolltice AND the birthday party, we were ultimately squished half to death. The Trolltice part was so fun and special but most of the adults stayed back to dig out more trolls so Mia grabbed my hand and dragged me along to his party. My biggest fear was he was gonna recognize me and try to talk to me. After what went down in detention, it’d be a holy grail of miracles for him to not recognize me.

3 MONTHS EARLIER

“Since you decided to disobey my rules, you two have detention for 2 hours.” The teacher said.

“But isn’t detention only 1 hour?” I raised my hand and politely asked fumbling with my baby pink skirt.

“My room, my rules.” The teacher spat back.

She turned around and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her muttering about how her pay was too low to have to deal with this.”Um, i’m gonna go sit in the book nook corner… ermm bye.”

I quickly muttered as i scrambled around picking up my books and my baby pink tote bag (i love baby pink), scooting to the cozy corner decorated with fluffy rugs, 2 large blue beanbags, fairy lights, and best of all, books. I plop down on the beanbag closes to the books dropping my tote bag and let out a big sigh of relief. To her, detention was just 2 extra hours of reading time. I pull out my phone, which was probably a century old and turned on my fav music, Drake, because i’m not like other girls! I put on P Power and lay my head back gazing at page 124 of “ It ends with us”.

I was quietly reading when i heard a plop beside me on the other beanbag. I glanced to where the sound came from seeing the prince sit beside me pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “ Hey, uh I was wondering if erm I could get your number?”

“Oh! Um, Uh let me see, XXX-XXX-XXXX.” I said shocked my wide doe eyes.

“Sick! Oh sorry, you can call me my nickname, Gris. So are you single?” he asked.

“Oh yeah! I’m single, I’m not like other girls, i don’t wear uh makeup or date around!” I blurted out not feeling ashamed.

“Oh, um cool? Uh I’m actually gonna skip detention and uh leave, so don’t erm uh tattle.” “Bye.” He mumbled opening the window and hopping out.

Oh. Wow what a great first impression, but he asked for my number, so that had to mean something.

PRESENT

We had reached the main part of the party and were pretty drunk but sober enough to think clearly. As we were dancing through the sweaty bodies, I took in the people around me, my eyes landing on a familiar face, Gris. Our eyes meet and he gazed me up and down with his dark and hungry eyes, his bright blue orbs landing on my lips, his tongue flicking out and licking his plump lips. My gaze fell on his hands, wrapped around two blond girls hips, their bodies pressed against his tone and built body. I quickly looked away glancing back to Mia, she looked at me with concerned eyes, silently asking me if I was okay. I silently said no and she grabbed my hand leading me outside where the party was less crowded. “Bae what happened? Are you okay?” Mia asked quietly.

“No, uh i just want to go home.” I sniffled softly, “Uh i’ll just call a ride home. Cya tomorrow though!”

I grabbed my phone out of my purse, dialing my friend Avani, my eyes blurry as i stumbled onto the side of the road, plopping my butt onto the cold hard cement. I heard the ringing in the phone and waited for avani’s voice. Instead I heard a deep, smooth, and gravely voice, emitting from my phone,” Y/n? Why are you calling? Are you okay? Where are you?”

Turns out I was drunker than I thought. “Um Im at XXXXX party, i’m just outside sitting on the sidewalk, kinda feel like vomiting my guts out not gonna lie.”

The smooth voice came back, gosh I could listen to that voice forever, maybe instead of a random alarm clock sound i use his voice, my days would always start off the best. “I’m coming to get you Y/n stay put.”

I yawned loudly, rubbing my head, ugh my head hurts so bad. “Hm sure okay.”

I sat there silently for a few moments wondering whose voice that could be, didn’t matter though they sounded hot. While I was sniffing my dress to see if i smelled like sweat and beer, a tall, lean and dark shadow over came my sight and I looked up to see a blurry figure with dark green hair and piercing blue eyes. I heard the figure walk closer and laughed softly as if my state was amusing to him. I blinked a few times, rubbing my eyes. I look up again and oh.my.god. It’s Gris. The fucking Gris. I’m so screwed, I’m almost basically passed out on his property, oh sorry, PALACE. One moment I was on the cold cement and next he was carrying me bridal style back into his house, into the elevator, up to his floor, and carried me all the way to his room and lied me gently on the bed. Taking off my converse and my socks. I heard him say through my drowsiness, “Hey, I’m going to grab some water and tylenol, don’t move too much okay?” That was ultimately the last thing i heard before i fell dead asleep.

THE NEXT MORNING

I tossed around on the bed. Woah, this bed feels like millions of fluffy little clouds. I raised my arms and stretched letting out a soft grunt. I rubbed my eyes and blinked them open, ugh my eyes are so blurry. I shifted around the bed, accidentally hitting my arm against something hard. I slowly sat up immediately regretting it. My head was pounding like a million hammers, I let out a loud sigh, wondering how I was going to the school event tonight. Very slowly I tried to find my nightstand to grab my phone but instead i fell off my bed. “Ouch what was that? Where’s my nightstand?” I said in pain after falling off the bed.

“Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow” a deep smooth voice said under me.

What the fuck. Oh my gosh, I immediately looked down, seeing Gris under me, his dark green fluffy hair sprawled all over his make-shift bed on his floor, then all of a sudden the memories from last night came flooding back. His arms around other girls, me sitting on the cold pavement alone, and him carrying me bridal style to his room before i passed out. “Um hey? Good morning.” His deep gravely morning voice came out under me. Oh my gosh how long was I spacing out for?

“Oh OH I’m so sorry I’m so sorry omg let me get off of you, gosh this is so embarrassing.” I quickly stumbled off of him but my migraine sent me back to the ground a second later.

“Oh god are you okay? Did you drink that much yesterday at my party? Here take some water!” He quickly blurted out, suddenly sitting up causing me to fall forward and collide onto his (hard) chest. “Oh! Uh some water would be nice.”

I said quickly but my voice had died down because I was straddling Gris’ lap, and we were staring at each other right in the eyes. I stared into his beautiful blue orbs, then i found my eyes falling down and gazing at his plump and pink lips. His tongue came out and swiped it against his bottom lip, and his Adams apple prominently sticking out. God he was so hot. I gazed my eyes back up to his eyes seeing him stare at my lips. His hands came up to me, one hand cradling my jaw and the other pushing my midnight black locks out of the way before muttering softly, “Can I please kiss you?” I quietly blurted back, “Please yes.”

His lips found mine, first a soft graze against my lips but quickly turning more heated was his fingers trailed against my jaw and my arms wrapping around his neck. How could his lips be so soft and smooth? He deepened the kiss, pulling me closer to his chest as he fell back onto the floor, me on top as we kept kissing. “I know this isn’t the right time but, I really like you, on the day when we both had detention, you were so calm and pretty that if I stayed another second with you I would confess all my feelings right there but I didn’t want to freak you out.” He said as he rambled on fidgeting with his fingers.

“Oh my gosh, I really like you too, you always seemed out of my league but ai can’t believe you’re here now.” I whispered out softly, grinning the biggest grin ever.

He replied, “So what do you say, will you go out with me?”

“Yes yes yes! I love you so much.” I exclaimed.

“I love you more.” He said.

And they lived happily ever after 😘🤭

[myownprivatcidaho]

.

[skinnyducky]

unexpected visits // v.h.

I got this idea from a movie (She's Out of My League). This scene in particular was one that nearly made me piss my pants and I knew I had to write something similar to it. I just really wanted to do something so kooky and funny and I felt this definitely fits that. I categorized this as fluff but idk. N E ways, here it is. Hope y'all enjoy it!

link to part 2

Word Count: 1420, slightly edited

WARNING: sexual themes, heavy make out session, language (once again...I think), mention of alcohol, and a very flustered vinnie

---------

You threw your head back in laughter as Vinnie had cracked another joke. You two had just left your date at BOA Steakhouse and due to the night being so great, you decided to invite Vin back to your apartment to hang out. Granted, you had no intentions of giving him the goods, at least not yet. You didn’t want to rush into that with this relationship. With so many of your previous relationships, you’d give it up and then they’d leave. You didn’t want that with Vinnie. Hell, you at least wanted him to meet your parents before any of that.

“You are a mess,” you giggled, stopping in front of your apartment door.

“Eh, I try to not to be.” He replied, making a funny face.

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your keys. You fumbled a bit before finding the key to your apartment. As you opened the door, you immediately dropped your bag and headed straight for the kitchen.

“You want anything to drink? A soda or water?” You asked, opening your fridge. “I think I may even have a White Claw or two.”

“Just a water’s fine.”

You nodded and grabbed two waters. You watched from behind the kitchen island as he glanced around your apartment, admiring the décor.

“This is a really nice place.” He gasped. “It’s even nicer than-…”

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the horse of a dog that stood right before him. He gulped and backed away as the male Doberman began to growl at him.

“What the hell is that?” Vinnie asked, holding his hand out in defense.

Giggling, you walked out from behind the counter. “That’s Mac. I’m watching him for a while until my family gets back from Puerto Rico.”

“Oh wow,” Vinnie replied, “he’s got some teeth on him.”

“Yeah, you should sit down. He hates when people stand up; makes him antsy.”

Vinnie wasted no time taking a seat on your sofa. Mac took note of this and laid down. Taking your place on the sofa next to Vinnie, you passed him his water before taking a drink of yours. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, not knowing what to do or talk about. That was until you grew tired of the quietness and decided to make a move. You leaned in close to him and grabbed his chin to make him face you. The two of you stared deep into each other’s eyes, slowly moving in closer until your lips brushed against each other, but before you could get any closer, you pulled back.

“Wait…wait,” you breathed. “I’m really want to, but I don’t wanna move too fast, y’know?”

“No, no…I get it, I totally do.”

“Believe me, I want to so bad, but…I just don’t want you to leave.”

He furrowed his brows. “Wha-…Why would I leave, Y/n?”

“Because everyone else does. Every time I meet someone nice, I get pretty generous and give it up within the first couple of days and then never hear from them again. I just don’t want that with you.” You explained, cradling yourself.

Vinnie sighed, wrapping an arm around you. He gave you a comforting smile and pulled you into his side.

“Y/n, I like you so much, I didn’t even think it was possible to like someone so much. So, regardless of whether or not we do anything, I have no plans on dipping anytime soon. Heck, I tend to be pretty generous too.”

You smirked to yourself. Never once has someone made you feel so secure, so warm inside. You knew Vinnie was definitely the one, and you also knew that you wanted him here and now. Without a thought about, you straddled him—much to his surprise. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before attaching your lips to his. As expected, the kiss was better than you ever could’ve imagined. All you could focus on was how amazing his lips felt against yours. It was like they were sculpted for each other. Not to mention, his were so soft, it made you nearly faint at the slightest touch.

His hands gripped your waist tightly, causing you to whimper in pleasure. Your lips then found their way to his cheek, to his jawline, and then ended at the base of his neck. He groaned and moaned, wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. You continued to nip at his neck, all while steadily grinding in his lap.

“Oh my god,” he breathed against your ear. You mentally smiled at this and kept up with what you were doing.

Poor Vinnie felt helpless against you. Never had been with someone who could make him feel the way he felt with you. It was as if he was merely nothing but putty in your hands. And he like it.

He swallowed a large lump in his throat, feeling himself nearing the edge as you proceeded to roll your hips. He couldn’t help it, he knew the longer you worked your magic, the sooner he would burst.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Though, as he practically creamed his drawers, the doorbell rang. You immediately stopped what you were doing and hopped off of Vinnie. To his dismay, he glanced down at the crotch of his jeans to find a small dark spot. With a groan, he tried rubbing his hand against it, hoping the spot would go away.

You were completely oblivious to what was going on with the boy. You had adjusted yourself and then ran to open the door, revealing none other than your grinning parents.

“Mom, dad!?” You squealed as they pulled you into a hug.

Vinnie nearly lost his shit as he heard those names leave your mouth. What the hell could your parents be doing here, especially at this hour of night. “This can’t get any worse,” he thought to himself.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming back until tomorrow?” You said as you led your parents into your living room.

“Well, we were but your father’s job called, and we had to leave earlier than expected.” Your mom spoke. Her eyes went around the room before landing on Vinnie, who now sat cross-legged on your coach. “Y/n, who’s your little friend?” she smiled.

“Oh, this is Vinnie!” You laughed.

Your dad stepped up beside you sticking his hand out at Vinnie. “Y/f/n Y/l/n,” your dad greeted, obviously trying to intimidate Vinnie.

Instead of getting up to shake his hand, Vinnie remained seated with his arm out. The distance between the two wasn’t small enough for him to reach, and knowing your dad, he wasn’t about to move. Once Vinnie figured this out, he retracted his arm and shook his head.

“U-uh, nope. I’m not really a, uh, a handshaker. You know, germaphobe and all of that.” said Vinnie. “I’m sure you guys are uh…tired and worn out from your flight. You should, um, take a seat and…stuff.”

You and your family stared at the boy in confusion for a minute. After a few seconds of awkward silence, your mom took a seat at the end of the couch.

“Germaphobe.” Your dad huffed to himself, sitting next to Vinnie.

You contained your embarrassment—not only for Vinnie, but for yourself—and sat down in the armchair. Vinnie began at attempting to make small talk, hoping that he could still win your parents over, but that was cut short when Mac found his way over to Vinnie. The large dog began sniffing at the stain as if he was smelling a homecooked meal.

“Oh no, Mac.” Vinnie whined.

You and your family watched in bewilderment as the dog proceed to growl during his sniff session.

“Mac.” Your dad said, snapping at him to get his attention.

Trying to push Mac away didn’t help either in Vinnie’s case; Mac was too determined to get to the bottom of what he was smelling. So, doing the only thing he could do, Vinnie stood up onto your couch and stepped over your parents. Reaching the end, he hopped off and turned to look at the frowning couple.

“I, uh…thank you for having me. This has been really great.” He said, turning to look at you. “Goodnight.”

And with that, the boy rushed out of your apartment, nearly tripping over himself along the way. You could do nothing but look at your parents with a worried grin.

“That’s, uh…that’s Vinnie for you.” You chuckled.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Potent

Alpha! Hanta Sero x Fem! Omega! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18 please vacate the premises.

Warnings: A/B/O, smut, knotting, marking, breeding kink (sorta? idk it comes with the A/B/O territory), a hint of pregnancy kink, a bit of blood

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author's Note: Ohhhhkaayyy so this has been sitting in my google doc for AGES. I think I started this in...October of last year? It's been sitting there for months and I've lacked the motivation to finish and post it but then I sent in an anon ask to @reinawritesbnha and, being the absolute queen she is, she became the little push I needed to do it. I DID IT FOR REINA!!

Also, this is some of my earliest writing and I only skimmed and edited a little bit of it so if there's a little bit of weird pacing or a strange cutoff where the writing styles clash it's because I haven't touched this piece in months.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

It had to happen when you were surrounded by alphas.

Your suppressants flaked out, again, and your scent wafted through the air on the street. Normally It’d be fine for an omega to let their scent float freely around them. But your scent is particularly...potent, even when you weren’t in heat. Not only that, but you weren’t mated yet, your scent glands still bare, and you still didn’t have a pack. To make matters worse, you’re quirkless.

You hadn’t realised what was happening until your path was blocked by an especially large male alpha. You turned around, and there were two more behind you. Fuck. This isn’t good. You took in your surroundings and searched for an exit, but you couldn’t find a way out. There's no way you’d be able to outrun the three very large male alphas.

Probably the worst part is that more alphas are turning their head toward you, taking notice of your lavender honey and rain scent that slowly began turning to a sour swamp. You dared to hope that change would ward off the three cornering you, but they’d already got a whiff of you. Several distressed chirps sounded from your chest, voicing your discomfort, and you glared pointedly at the three alphas as they edged closer to you.

You hate when this happened. Why’d you have to be cursed like this? Your growls only grew, baring your little omega fangs. There’s no way in hell you’d let some stranger scent you, let alone one of these creeps. They wouldn’t take the damn hint and just crept closer to you, calling out to the ‘pretty little omega’ to ‘come have some fun’.

You’re scared now, the involuntary chirps in your chest coming more frequently. None of the other alphas or betas on the street were big enough to face the three, making you a sitting duck and a ragdoll if they wanted you to be. Your claws are small, nowhere near ideal for this situation, but you’d use them if you needed to. With a final low defiant growl you dropped your bag against the wall behind you and readied yourself for a fight.

Suddenly a large body dropped in front of you, his back to you. His scent alone hit you like a freight train, orange zest, mint, tree bark and something earthy. It had your head spinning, nearly sending you into an early heat. He growled, low and powerful, the sound rattling in your chest and making you sink further into the wall behind you. The other three alpha’s scents together were still overpowered by the new alpha before you, and they vanished faster than they appeared.

He turned around and stepped away from you, giving you space to breathe. He kneeled down enough so he was eye level with you, his hands reaching out clearly in an attempt to comfort you, but kept from touching you.

“Are you okay?” The question barely registered, still delirious from his scent, and you’re having a hard time recovering. Large hands grip your shoulders and shake you lightly, your mind beginning to clear with the soothing pheromones he’s releasing.

“Omega.” The command snapped you to attention, your gaze fixated on his own dark irises.

“Are you okay, omega?” You blink, swallow down the lump in your throat, take a deep breath.

“Yeah...I’m okay. Thank you, alpha.” But you’re not quite okay. You need to get home. Fast. The alpha seemed to catch on, probably by your scent that still hadn’t returned to normal. He stands and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping you in his scent. It’s a comforting gesture.

“Let’s get you home.” With a nod you set off, the man walking next to you with a strong, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“What’s your name?” You introduce yourself, and he does the same. His name is Sero Hanta, and now that you’re calm again, you take in just how handsome he is.

Raven hair is pulled back into a small bun, showing off his undercut and strong, sharp jawline. Onyx eyes shine with kindness and playful mischief, and a beaming grin reveals pearly white teeth. He’s incredibly toned, his muscles calmly rippling under the t-shirt that stretched over his chest. You vaguely noticed the strange shape of his elbows, but disregarded it as his quirk. The omega in you is howling, begging for this alpha, his scent invading your senses. But you suppress it quickly, reminding yourself you’d only just met this man.

As you reach your apartment you exchange phone numbers, and he tells you to keep the jacket and use it when you go out to ward off any unwanted attention. You thank him again for helping you earlier, and he waves to you as he walks down the hall and enters the elevator, the doors closing in front of his handsome smiling face.

Despite meeting him only ten minutes earlier your instincts trust the alpha, and you hold the jacket close to your face, breathing in his scent. It’s wonderful, and your inner omega is in love. You find yourself wondering when you’d see him again.

The next few days are riddled with work and calls to your doctor about the strength of your suppressants. You work from home as a secretary for a small company. It’s a miracle you’d found it, too. Nobody wants an omega, let alone a potent one. It’s an alpha’s world, you guess. When this job opening popped up you were ecstatic, so you took it and have been working from home with decent pay for the last five years.

The calls to your doctor were not going as smoothly as your job, though. You leave a message every four hours until she finally calls you back. She was concerned since the suppressants she’d prescribed are the strongest out there, and if your scent was overpowering them they were either defective or your scent glands were overproducing. It wasn’t an immediate threat to your health, it only meant you’d be drawing more attention than you wanted to. Still, it’s annoying and makes life so much harder than it needs to be.

After she prescribed twice the amount, she said she’d look over your tests from the latest visit before she hung up the phone. You groaned once the call ended. You seriously needed a break from your second gender. Taking the prescribed double dose of suppressants, you got ready to go out to the corner cafe to read and drink coffee. Hopefully the new amount will keep steady. You really don’t want to deal with any more aggressive alphas this week. For good measure you pull on Sero’s jacket, allowing his scent to cover you, then grab your keys, phone, wallet and a book and begin the walk.

When you arrive at the cafe you order a hot mocha, curl into the small corner booth and crack open the book. You got lost in the ink and your mind floated along the adventure, putting yourself in the shoes of the main character and leading the mission to take down the corrupt queen who’d framed you for killing the prince of a neighboring kingdom. You were ripped from the fantasy world when a bright, enthusiastic blonde came up and tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. His smile was as bright as his hair.

“Sorry to scare you cutie, but I couldn’t help but notice that jacket of yours smells an awful lot like my friend Sero!” You smile softly at the blonde.

“Well if we’re talking about the same Sero Hanta, then your nose would be correct. This is his jacket.” His eyes widen as he nods.

“Oh my gosh you must be the omega he keeps talk-” The blonde’s words became muffled by a large hand. A hand that belonged to the very man you were talking about. Sero smiles apologetically down at you as he shoves the blonde back to where you assume they’re sitting.

“Sorry about Kami, he’s… extroverted.” You smile back at him, mostly because you’re happy to see him again.

“It’s no problem at all. He recognized your scent on me.” He looked down and only then realized you’re wearing his jacket, and he beams at you. Then he takes a glance at the booth you’re sitting all alone at, his smile falling just a bit.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” You take a moment to think about the offer, then agree with a nod. Your omega couldn’t pass up more time with him.

As you approach the booth you notice there are more people with Sero than you anticipated. There were four other people sitting there. Sero introduced all of them from left to right. Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Ashido Mina, and the happy blonde from earlier is Kaminari Denki. You introduce yourself and when Sero slid into the booth, you followed after him.

These five are a tight pack, and you learn they all met in high school. Bakugo’s brash personality made you wary at first, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s just like that with everyone. He makes a bit of a snippy remark, which you easily counter, and he smirks while the rest smile or snicker. It would seem they like you.

You can’t tell what their second genders are, and you mentally kick yourself for even wondering in the first place. Their genders are none of your concern, but you can’t blame yourself when you’re constantly alert because of your own stupid second gender. As it turns out, you don’t need to wait very long to find out.

This time you smell your own scent as it permeates the air around you. You swear under your breath at the stupid suppressants that obviously can’t so their job, and the others snap their gazes to you. You sigh.

“Yeah, that scent is me. My suppressants flaked again. Sorry about that.” They all nodded, seemingly understanding. Sero must have told them about the other day. Of course, it would soon repeat. It didn’t take long for an alpha to take notice of your scent. The man -- why is it always the largest males??? -- strides up to the booth with a cocksure grin and leans down to inhale your scent. You duck away from him, into Sero, and let out an albeit small warning growl that was drowned in Sero and Kirishima’s. He ignored them all the same.

“Hey there little omega, you smell real nice. You wanna come hang with me instead? We can have some fun together with my buddies, what do you say?” The others stayed quiet. They’re going to let you defend yourself before they do anything in case they end up escalating the situation. You turn your head and lift your shoulder, hiding your scent gland.

“I’m not interested, thank you. Please leave me alone.” You hoped to whatever deity watched over you that the man would leave. Before anyone could react the alpha grabbed your wrist in a vice grip, yanking you roughly from your seat. You chirp, your scent turning sour and the entire pack abruptly stands, baring their fangs at the man. It barely registered in your head that Kirishima and Bakugo are alphas, Mina is a beta, and Kaminari is an omega, their fangs giving them away.

The man tightens his grip on your wrist and you cry out, your bones creaking under the pressure. With no other options you did the one thing that would get him to let go, and sank your fangs into his wrist. You jump back into Sero, who wraps an arm around you protectively.

“You bit me, you bitch!” He raises an arm, clearly about to try and hit you, but a large hand grabs his wrist. Surprisingly enough it’s Bakugo, and his growl is laced into his words.

“Leave now, or you lose a hand.” Sero speaks up from above you.

“You might wanna listen, amigo. That’s Dynamight.” The alpha rips his arm from Bakugo’s hold and looks down at you, and you growl at him as he scoffs and walks away, apparently not ready to fight the #2 pro hero over an omega.

You all sit back down and you pull up the sleeve of the jacket to inspect the already forming bruise on your wrist. Your nose wrinkles with a half-angry half-pained snarl. Tenderly, Sero takes your wrist and lightly squeezes the sides of your forearm, against your bones, and your lack of reaction tells him nothing’s broken. Still, he growls at the offending bruise.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You shake your head and put a hand over his.

“It’s not worth it Sero. He’s probably long gone.” You turn to the rest of the pack.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Kirishima is the first to speak.

“Of course! That dude was a jerk. I just hope he doesn’t go around doing that to other omegas.” Bakugo, surprisingly, spoke next.

“Obviously we’d protect you. You’re a potent omega and quirkless, so you attract unwanted attention without even knowing or wanting to. Besides, if you’re gonna be Sero’s omega there’s no way in hell we’d let some extra handle you like that.” The implications make your face burn, and Kirishima smacks the blonde’s arm with a ‘Don’t just say that kind of thing, Katsuki.’

After an hour or two of talking, and shockingly no other aggressive alphas, they all walk you home to your apartment. Sero wanted to check on your wrist again, so you invited them all in, but they all had something else to do, so you were left alone with Sero. The fact that the one alpha you desperately wanted to be around is alone with you in your apartment is both great and terrible. Thankfully, you have self-control and his own suppressants are working perfectly fine.

He inspected the darkening bruise on your wrist, his large hands gripping your arm tenderly and turning it gently as he prods at the skin. It doesn’t hurt too bad, so you assure him you’ll be perfectly fine. Eventually he leaves with a hug and you sigh once the door is closed, relieved that you were able to keep your omega at bay and your hands to yourself.

A couple days later you get a text from him and the two of you text often, asking how each other’s day went, if anything interesting had happened. You didn’t leave your apartment unless you needed to, since your suppressants clearly weren’t working, so you made sure to cut grocery trips short and keep away from any alphas that seemed a bit aggressive. Sero invited you to hang out with the pack at their house, and you obliged.

They lived in a huge house all together. Most of the rooms were sealed so no scents or sounds could go in or out for ruts and heats, and there were several spare rooms that were empty and waiting for more pack members. It was a fun hangout, filled with video games and good conversation, and even better food which Bakugo cooked. Sero had an arm around you whenever he was close, and you definitely didn’t mind. Your suppressants flaked in the middle, again, and Sero insisted he walk you home. With him walking you home there weren’t any alphas trying to get you this time. You ended up going over to hang out with them a lot when you weren’t working, and eventually Sero began to court you.

Obviously, you accepted, and after a few months of dating and scenting, your overactive scent glands seemed to mellow out, Sero’s scent mixing with it. Your suppressants are lasting much longer now, which is a good sign. Now that you’re Sero’s omega, he often helped you with your heats and you’d help him with his ruts, and he was strong-willed enough that he hadn’t marked or knotted you in the middle of things.

About a year and a half into the relationship you realize you really love him. Sure you had arguments, but everything was settled through calmed discussions over coffee or tea, and you came to understand each other well enough that arguments became few and far between.

You’re happy with Sero, so when your heat came around early and he was there to help, you were going to let him know just how much you loved him.

You texted him once you felt it starting. He was there within half an hour, and you pounced on him once the font door closed, smothering him in hot, wet kisses, eager to feel him inside you. He carries you to the bedroom, and you two are quick in shedding all of your clothes. He lays you on your back with a hand on your throat as he growls into your ear, making a hot shudder roll down your spine.

“Are you ready for me omega?” You whine and nod, your slick already dripping down your folds. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Please alpha, I need your cock.” He growls again, satisfied with your answer, and he presses into you, bottoming out with one firm thrust. You chant his name like a mantra as he set a bruising pace, rutting into you recklessly, wet skin slapping on skin the only other sound beside your whimpers and his growls. His teeth nip at your shoulder, sharp fangs testing your skin and claws digging into the fat of your hips. His cock is so deep, hot swollen tip kissing your cervix with every full-bodied thrust and sending you into a euphoric haze. Your own claws are sinking into his back, leaving little trails of red and blood beading down the lines. It drives him wild every time.

“That’s right, little omega. Mark me up, I’m all yours. Fuck you’re so pretty underneath me like this.” His hands grip behind your knees and press them into your chest, folding you nearly in half as he plows into you further. The angle knocks the breath from your lungs and your eyes roll back. You can feel his knot beginning to swell, feel how his thrusts are getting more controlled and his grip on your thighs tighten from the sheer concentration it’s taking for him not to breed you. You have other plans. Between wheezed breaths you squeak out.

“H-hantaaa~” He slows to a near snail’s pace, grinding his slowly growing cock into your sweet spot, a smirk stretching across his face as you splutter from the sudden change. He’s enjoying making you squirm.

“What is it, sweetness? Tell your alpha what you need.” You pant, chest heaving as much as the position will allow.

“Want your mark, want your knot~ Wanna be bred Hanta! I want your pups!” He stills completely, claws digging into the fat of your thighs with enough force to have drops of blood falling to the sheets beneath you. You’d never said anything like that in the heat of the moment. He can’t have heard you correctly...right?

“Princesa, do you know what you just said?” The seriousness in his tone has you sobering, but even before you knew exactly what you were saying. You nod frantically, wiggling your hips to get him to move again.

“Yes! I know alpha! Please, give me your knot~” His growl makes your bones shake, and with no warning he drops your legs around his waist and leans down so his face is buried in your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna trust you with this baby girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His fangs sink into your scent gland just as he picks up his brutal pace, and the euphoria makes you cum hard, your whole body locking up and mouth falling open in a silent scream. He plows into you as you regain your breath, and you bite down on his own scent gland as hard as you can, tearing into his skin with every intention of leaving a pretty scar for the world to see.

His knot swells more, and he’s pushing it into you with every ounce of power he can generate with that gorgeous body of his. With one final snap of his hips he locks his body to yours and cums hard, ropes of hot seed filling you to the brim. He collapses on top of you and laps at the wound on your neck and you do the same. After a few minutes he leans back and cups your face in his hand, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Are you alright?” You nod, nuzzling into his palm.

“I’m sorry. I was gonna talk to you about it, but my heat came early.” He kisses your forehead gently, brushing the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s okay, pretty thing. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him.

“Of course I do. I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you too.” You lay there, tangled in each other’s arms until his knot goes down. You whine at the loss when his cock slips out of you, clawing at him to come back because you’re still in heat. His hand gently wraps around your neck, a low chuckle on his lips.

“Relax, we’re far from done.” His already hard erection rubs up and down your glistening folds, barely stimulating your clit, teasing you until tears prick your eyes and you’re beggin him to fuck you again.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna breed you so well, You’re gonna look so pretty all big and round with my pups.” He groans at the image he’d conjured in his head and you squeal as he slams his hips into you.

You’re in for a wonderfully long night.

[9tzuyu]

exquisite (rewrite)

[old version]

summary: uhhh idk artist!reader gets f*cked by nat

warnings: 18+, smut, choking (verrrrryyy briefly), mommy kink

also its been awhile since i’ve written smut so if this is awful do not perceive me >:(.

thank you moli for proofreading, i love u <3

dt: @nermalina hey bff heres that smut i promised you. consider it a very late birthday gift <3

🏷: @natasha-danvers @kermy48 @yelenabelovasgf @blackxwidowsxwife @slut-for-nat

natasha had been a model for dozens of people, dozens of times. it never crossed your mind that she would model specifically for you. the redhead was aggressively known for rejecting people's pleas for her to let them paint, sketch, or mold her from clay.

so it came as a surprise when you came across an email requesting a one-on-one session with you. had natasha's name not caught your eye, you would've deleted the email and completely missed such a huge opportunity.

you just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.

the all too known model would be at your apartment in half an hour. you had already set up your supplies the night before out of pure nervousness of her arrival.

you stood in the middle of your kitchen, a cup of orange juice in hand as you thought about the different styles you could draw her in. however, your train of thought was unexpectedly interrupted by the sound of a knock at your door.

natasha was twenty minutes early. and god did it feed into your anxiety.

after unlocking the deadbolt, you were greeted with a friendly pair of green eyes. you didn't say anything, only moving out of the way so she could walk in.

she took in her surroundings, and you suddenly felt a little embarrassed about your apartment. it was cheap, invaluable compared to the rich houses you knew natasha had been invited to.

"sorry it's not much," you mumbled.

"no, it's fine. it's different... in a good way i mean." she reassured quickly, "it doesn't scream how much you want to impress me."

you gave an awkward nod and led her into the living room, motioning to her that you wanted her on the couch.

"okay, you can get into any form you want as long as-" seeing natasha with her clothes half off and still going caught your breath. "-you're comfortable."

she saw your panic from the corner of her eye and smirked. natasha tended to have that effect on people, but this was the first time she allowed someone to draw her fully nude. seeing the look in your eyes as they roamed her body gave her the confidence boost she needed.

you bit your lip as you watched natasha position herself. her right arm rest against the armrest, legs situated atop each other while her left arm fell against her hip.

and just when you thought she had finalized her position, she bent her left knee up and spread her legs. you had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from moaning out loud.

"how's this?"

you nodded, "perfect."

normally natasha could keep herself busy with small talk, but you seemed to be much more quiet than the other artists she'd modeled for. she liked that though, because she already knew it would be easy to make you squirm.

her eyes steadied themselves on your face. you were very focused on your work, she could tell by the involuntary frown on your face. when you looked up from your canvas you were met with a pair of green eyes staring directly at you. nervously, you tried to glance at a different part of her body, but that would betray you because the first thing your eyes landed on was her cunt.

you tried to cover up your action, but the sound of natasha's laugh indicated that she saw the whole thing happen.

"do you want a closer look?" her voice was raspy, causing you to freeze. "really, i don't mind. the second i saw your picture online i knew i wanted to fuck you."

you felt the air in your lungs leave your body. she stood up from her position and strutted her way into your personal space. natasha towered over you while you sat on your stool. she thrusted her hips lightly against your back so you knew she was in charge. it wasn’t long before her lips began to attack your neck. sloppy kisses littered the edge of your jawline, a generous specialty of hers.

"but the drawing, i haven't fin-"

"i don't care. now do you want me to fuck you in here or in your bedroom? i'd prefer the bed, but i could make eating you out on the couch doable."

your reply was stuck in the back of your throat, but you wanted her more than anything.

she traced the outline of your face before grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at her. "i don't have much patience and if you make me wait any longer, i'm going to punish you." natasha's eyes grew dark, completely different from the woman who initially walked through the door.

"bedroom," you squeaked, but before you could go to move natasha picked you up bridal style and carried you herself.

you almost regretted underestimating how strong she was by her petite frame. almost.

she placed you flat on your back and in an instant natasha had your clothes ripped from your body. "sweet girl, you won't know your own name by the time i'm done with you."

she tugged you closer to her so that she could prop both legs on her shoulders, keeping you wide and open just as she wanted.

natasha kissed the inside of your thighs as she worked her way up. your eyes screwed shut, and you found yourself fighting back the urge to moan.

the redhead wouldn't allow that though. she wanted to hear every noise you made slip from your mouth, and she would do anything to get what she wanted.

"open your eyes, let mommy hear those pretty little moans of yours."

she kitten licked the outside of your walls while massaging both of your breasts with her hands, occasionally twisting your nipples for extra stimulation. she dipped the tip of her tongue further into your pussy before retracting and going back to kissing your thighs.

"mommy," you whined.

you could feel natasha smile against your skin. "there you go, my love." you tried to grind your hips further onto her mouth by pushing upwards, but natasha's mouth quickly moved out of reach.

"ah ah ah, be patient. only good girls get what they want." you rolled your eyes and huffed, earning a loud slap to the side of your thigh. "do that again and your ass will be bent over my knee seven shades of red."

her glare went away as soon as she buried her face back between your legs. she was downright greedy, almost possessive over the gift between your legs.

natasha's role of being easy on you was put to an end. she shoved her tongue into your pussy, graciously accepting every inch you had to offer. seeing your back arch, hands balled into fists as they gripped the sheets, gave the redhead a sense of euphoria she'd never felt before.

"mommy please-"

"you're so beautiful when you fall to pieces." natasha purred. "aren't you glad mommy's taking care of you?"

your only response was a loud whine as her tongue flicked over your clit. "c'mon sweet girl, i know you can use your words."

"yes!" your voice was strained, a series of incoherent grunts and moans filling the room. natasha’s mouth covered the entirety of your pussy and her lapping only grew stronger the more you cried.

you clenched tightly around her tongue. your legs automatically reflexed to close, but that didn’t do anything for you except grant natasha deeper access into your cunt.

“m-mommy!” the feeling of natasha’s nails scraping the sides of your thighs was enough to let you know you could come. “mmm, that’s right baby. there you go.”

when she pulled away, you were greeted with the sight of natasha’s sticky, grinning face as she moved to sit on your stomach. she figured she could give you a small break before really fucking you senseless.

but that didn’t mean she would stop completely.

her hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing and pinching them again for extra stimulation. “you like that, don’t you baby?”

“yes, please, i want more!”

natasha giggled, mocking your pathetic pleas for her.

“not yet. don’t be the dirty little whore i know you are. now you’re going to lay here while mommy grinds on your stomach until she gets tired of it.” her hand offered a gentle squeeze around your throat.

“you’re going to have to draw me with my fingers shoved in your cunt before i let you cum again.” she taunted, slowly edging herself on your body. it wasn’t long before you began to feel her heat against your skin.

and truthfully, you’d draw whatever the hell she wanted you to just as long as she kept coming back.

[glowingbadger]

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

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

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

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

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

TW: A brief mention of non-con

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

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You think so..?"

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

You smile warmly and nod,

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

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

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

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

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

"One moment."

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

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

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

"Oh, uhm..."

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

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

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

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

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[honeytae]

I can’t wait to create more memories with you.

hi my loves! so this is a super fluffy little piece about jungkook and his s/o moving in together - it starts out on moving day and there’s a little flashback to when the topic of moving in together was first brought up :) it’s overall just really cute idk i hope you guys like it <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

Slowly turning the handle to enter your apartment, you tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for what you would inevitably see. That didn’t seem to work, though, since it felt like an absolute sucker-punch to the gut. 

The space looked brand new; a completely blank canvas for its next tenants.

Walking into the empty apartment you used to call your own now felt heavy instead of homey. The path to your bedroom felt routine, but slightly shaken with the absence of all your things. Photos of your family no longer occupied the walls, that little throw rug you’d picked out for the summer had been cleaned off the floor, and the various vases of flowers your boyfriend surprised you with were no longer kept front and center on the table against the wall. 

And even though those items were still in existence, even though everything was still intact and far from gone, it still made your heart clench a bit in your chest that they would no longer be here.

Rounding the corner to enter your bedroom, you leaned your shoulder against the door frame for a moment, admiring the pristine openness of your room in its empty state. You couldn’t recall it ever feeling so big.

Heaving a deep sigh, you let your legs carry your body over to the bay window, taking a seat on the ledge to peer out at the view one last time.

At the sound of Jungkook calling your name, you glanced back to the doorway of your bedroom, staring at your boyfriend as he tipped his head at your unreadable expression.

Although he’d been lifting boxes all throughout the morning and afternoon, somehow he barely looked strained. In fact, he was still annoyingly attractive. He had his grown out hair tossed back into a bun (with one of your hair ties), and he was wearing plain black shorts hidden beneath one of his many oversized t-shirts.

How he could make it all look so good, you had no idea.

“Hi.” You said, the man wordlessly approaching you with a run of his palms down his thighs, crossing the room in only a few long strides to get to your swinging legs.

“I didn’t expect to find you in here. You okay?” He asked, his brows pulled together as he took a seat beside you.

Taking a stray strand of your hair between his fingers, he pushed it back from your face, subtly analyzing the emotions written into your features with dancing pupils.

Immediately wanting to ease him, you leaned forward, pursing your lips underneath his jawline before letting your chin rest on his shoulder. 

Wrinkling your nose at the odor rising from his t-shirt, you tilted your head slightly to escape the smell, unbeknownst to Jungkook.

“You’re sweaty.” You observed, the man craning his neck to look down at you, comically raising his brows at your bluntness.

“I’ve been working!” He defended himself, making you chuckle a bit before picking your head up to smile at him.

“I know you have.” You said appreciatively, leaning forward to press your lips to his when he subtly puckered them out to you.

“Saying your goodbyes?” He offered in explanation to your presence in the apartment, having already successfully gathered every last box there was to take.

You laughed at that, nodding a bit in response.

“In a way.” You shrugged, letting your temple fall on his bicep with a sigh. Shifting your eyes down to your leg as Jungkook grabbed ahold of your thigh, you smiled as he lifted and draped it over his own thigh, drumming his pointer fingers on your muscle.

Feeling his lips purse against the top of your head, you let your eyes fall shut, the distant sound of birds outside the screened window behind you letting you zone out into a much more peaceful space than your mind had been in previously.

It was the only serene moment you’d had today. From movers bustling in and out of your apartment, your mom coming to help you label and sort all your boxes, your neighbors poking their heads in to the chaos to finally nose their way into seeing the layout of your place in comparison to theirs; it had been a lot.

“Are you gonna miss it here?” 

Peeling your eyes open at Jungkook’s sudden question, you lifted your head to properly look at him, curiosity evident in the slight widening of his eyes.

“Hm. The memories it holds, more than anything.” You answered, watching as he nodded in understanding. “I never liked the kitchen layout.” You added as an afterthought, causing the man to burst into giggles before shaking his head at you.

“I don’t think the kitchen was too bad. Although I love our kitchen.” He grinned at the emphasis he could officially put on the word, you sharing the same reaction at the phrase. Our kitchen. Our new apartment.

“I’m so excited.” You all but squealed, the man chuckling as you squeezed him tighter to you in your excitement.

“Me too.” He said, smile slightly closing his eyes as his face creased with the strength of his happiness.

“Remember how nervous you were when you first brought up moving in together?” You wondered, peeking over at the closet across the room that had started it all.

“I do.” He chuckled, making you smile as your brain took you back to the event that had taken place only a few months prior, in this very room.

“Hey.”

Looking up from the heap of clean clothes at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you had eyed a pouty Jungkook, raising your eyebrows at his expression as his eyes briefly fixed on the clothes before focusing back on your face as he shuffled into your bedroom. 

The tone and facial expression that Jungkook greeted you with had your eyes widened slightly, examining his approaching stature, his eyes squinted at you accusingly.

“Hi.” You responded, laying Jungkook’s clean boxers on your thigh to straighten the fabric before you creased it.

“Are you hiding something from me?” He asked, causing you to tip your head in confusion as you stared back at him, bottom lip jutted out slightly. 

“Not that I know of, no.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised at that, walking further into the bedroom to approach where you sat on the mattress folding a fresh load of clean clothes. 

You watched as his eyes searched the pile, sighing dejectedly before turning back toward the closet to rummage through it some more. 

“What are you up to?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions stalling only a bit when he picked up on the annoyed tone you used at his messing up of the rack of clothes in there. 

“I’m looking for my hoodie.” He explained his actions, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back. 

Jungkook seemed to have an emotional attachment to each and every one of his hoodies, even though he had hundreds to speak of. Every time you borrowed one, he tracked you down and made you give it back. 

It was never in a mean way; he only wanted his stuff returned, and you understood that. But at a certain point, it was just annoying. 

“Which one are you looking for?” 

“It’s the black one with the blue flames on the hood.” He recalled, scanning the row of clothes for the design before grunting in disapproval upon coming up empty-handed. 

Shaking your head, you sighed as you diverted your eyes back to the clothes awaiting folding. You could still hear the man rummaging through the plethora of hung items over your music, pressing your lips together in slight annoyance at the stubborn man. 

The closet in your bedroom was now a fifty-fifty split of your clothes and Jungkook’s. You couldn’t recall when he had started keeping clothes there; you suppose it just happened naturally as he spent more and more time with you. 

In fact, you were going on two years. You had picked up his habits and him some of yours, you knew all his little quirks and vice versa. Including his necessity for keeping all his precious hoodies in check. 

“Why must you fret about each and every one of your hoodies' temporary absences?” You sighed, the man mumbling an “ouch” as something fell out onto his foot. 

“Because I know someone,” he looked back to you for emphasis, “likes to steal them and then I never get them back. I swear you’re renting a storage locker for my hoodies just so I can’t find them here.” 

At his dramatics, you merely sighed again, going back to folding your t-shirt before you paused, looking up to stare at the back of his head. 

Thinking back, you could picture the black hoodie in a heap on his bedroom floor the other day, tossed aside after some activities between you two and obviously forgotten about by your boyfriend. 

“Did you check your place?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions pausing at your words before he slowly spun around to you. 

His face was plagued with guilt, cheeks full in a different kind of pout than the bratty one he’d greeted with as his sweet doe eyes came out to play. 

“Ugh, sorry.” He said, cheeks heated before he made his way over to you, landing on the mattress with his head resting on your thigh. 

You chuckled at the embarrassed pout on his face as he nestled his head into your leg, staring up at you with a ‘hmph.’

“I just can’t seem to keep track of what’s at mine or yours.” He explained, you nodding with a fond smile as you brushed hair back from his face. 

“I know. You just get so damn protective over those hoodies.” You teased, the man scrunching his nose at your cooing tone. 

“It is really difficult to keep track of what is where.” He sighed, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye that told you he was thinking something he wasn’t saying. 

“It is. What’s going on in here, baby?” You tapped your pointer finger against the crown of his head, the man smiling shyly as he grabbed your hand in his. 

“Why don’t we,” he trailed off, hoping you’d get his hint so he didn’t have to come out and actually say it. When you only stared at him in response, he sighed, shaking his head to negate what he’d been saying causing you to grab his wrist with a pout.

“Why don’t we what?” You asked, jutting your bottom lip out at the disappointed look on your boyfriends face, smoothing your thumb over the corner of his mouth to ease his frown. 

“Well, you know,” he shrugged, “since it’s so hard going back and forth between each other’s places,” he trailed off, groaning when you only smiled back at him, eyebrows raised in amusement as you waited for him to continue. 

The look on your face told him you knew. The gleam in your eye told him you knew exactly what he was trying to articulate. 

“Baby,” He groaned, realizing you were messing with him as you pulled begging eyes down at him. He removed his hand from yours, pulling it away with a pout as you chuckled at his reaction.

“What, Kook? What’s on your mind?” You continued playing dumb, wanting to drag the words you’ve been waiting so long to hear out from the man. 

“C’mon, why are you making me say it if you already know?” He whined, you giggling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Because I want to hear it from you. And I like seeing you squirm.” You smirked, the man scoffing underneath you as he recaptured your hand in his own. 

“Baby, my sweet angel, the brightest star in the entire universe-“ 

“Jungkook!” You laughed, lightly squeezing his hand as you grinned down at him, his teeth shining up at you as he shyly blushed at the words in his brain. 

“Can we move in together?”

“Hm,” you hummed, the man’s eyes bulging as he slightly panicked beneath you, “give me some good reasons to.” You smirked again, your boyfriend gasping at your words before he took control, flipping you over to hover above your frame as you squealed at the sudden action. 

“You brat.” He leaned his forehead down to yours, effectively silencing you with a kiss to your lips, your fingers tickling at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“For one,” he started, “you wouldn’t have to hear me complaining about my missing hoodies anymore. I can make a mean cup of tea, I’m really good at laundry, I-”

You cut the man off with a press of your lips to his, silencing him with a muffled noise as his hand squeezed at your hip. 

“You don’t have to give me any reasons.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling them curl into a small smile as he made a noise of delighted surprise. He knew you were only teasing, but he couldn’t believe you hadn’t dragged it out longer. 

“Really?” He grinned, causing you to giggle beneath him out of sheer fondness.

“Yeah, I’ll move in with you.” 

“Really, really?” He grinned, his doe eyes sparkling at you as you nodded to confirm, laughing at the man’s goofy repetition of the question you’d already answered. 

“So, we’re actually doing this? We’re moving in together?” He raised his eyebrows, face melting into a grin as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. 

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?” You smiled, the look of absolute happiness on your boyfriends face almost making you tear up as he all but hugged you to his frame. 

“I know we’re ready, baby.” He nodded, kissing you again as you both continued smiling like idiots. 

“Wait, how do we do this?” You asked, Jungkook furrowing his brows as he pondered your question.

“Huh. I don’t know.” He chuckled, you giggling along with him before sighing in thought. 

“Do we want to look for a new apartment altogether?” You wondered aloud, Jungkook bouncing his head back and forth in thought, hair moving with his head. 

“We could. Do you really want to leave here, though?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise when you shrugged in response, raising your hand to cup his cheek lovingly.

“I don’t care where I live as long as you’re with me. What about your place?” You offered, Jungkook mirroring your earlier response with a quirk of his shoulders up to his face. 

“You’re my home.” He put simply, laughing when your bottom lip jutted into a pout, pressing kisses over your face as your eyes filled with water out of pure adoration for the man. 

At the memory, you felt your eyes water again, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. Your boyfriend, wrinkling his nose at your expression, poked at your bottom lip, tutting his tongue at you.

“What happened to not caring where you lived as long as I’m with you?” He teased, squeezing your shoulder with a smile.

“I still feel that way, Kookie.” You assured him with a grin, taking his hand as he wiggled his fingers out to you.

“Good. We’re going to create so many more memories in our new home, I promise.” He said, baring his teeth to you again as he felt you squeeze your fingers around his hand.

“I know. I can’t wait to create more memories with you.” You sighed dreamily, leaning in for another chaste kiss on the man’s tempting pout. 

“So,” he leaned his forehead against yours, “are you feeling ready to leave now?” 

His words were soft, but they weren’t spoken with tentativeness. There was obvious excitement in his tone, an emotion that had you wanting to spring off your bay window and never look back. 

“Let’s go.” You smiled, coming to a stand as Jungkook remained seated, grinning at you in amusement at your sudden change in attitude about leaving this place. 

“Alright, boss.” 

With a grunt, he came to his feet, never letting go of your hand as you made your final stroll through the apartment together. 

Passing through the years’ worth of memories within the walls, you both took a silent few steps before pausing in the entryway, giving the place one last glance before meeting each others eyes with small, matching smiles.

Turning the handle to your front door for the last time, you let the latch slide closed like you had so many times before, tick-tick tacking as it came to a secure shut.

Shutting the door behind you, simultaneously opening a new one. 

[simpsiren]

jung jaehyun x reader

description. Working for an art exhibit that only lasts a week, you wouldn’t expect anyone to stay here long until you meet a guy who comes by every single day, looking at the same painting at the same timing that lasts hours.

genre. flUff, at the end i promise

word count. 6.4k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. the pic of jaehyun just gives me museum vibes idk why so yes i’m going to write a short story (okay its not idk how i extended but i did) on him. the story is more of the reader observing him till the halfway point where they slowly start to interact. this would probably be considered a slow burn?? not sure but enjoy it either way!!

“You got a new job again?”

You turn around your desk chair, taking one side of your earpiece off and noticing Taeyong sitting on your bed casually scrolling through his phone.

You didn’t even realise he came into the room. Probably because you had your music blasting at a high volume and you were concentrated on completing your holiday homework.

“Yeah. It’s at some art exhibit. Pay’s fair and I only have to sit there and do nothing for a week.” You simply reply with a light shrug.

“That’s so easy. When do you start?” Taeyong asks, lifting his eyes off his phone to look at you with curiosity.

You didn’t give an answer, looking down on your phone to search for the email that the person in charge sent you a few days back.

“It says the exhibit opens on friday so I guess that’s tomorrow.” You say shortly after glazing your eyes down the email.

Taeyong hums and nods his head. “Is it far from here? Need me to ride you there?”

You give a sincere smile and shake your head lightly. “You don’t have to. I can take the train. Plus you have work.” You politely reject your friend.

Taeyong frowns in response, making you sigh as you know he’ll insist on doing it.

“I’m working from home? I can do whatever as long as I complete my work. Just let me send you. You’re always refusing my help.” Taeyong glares at you and lets out an exasperated huff.

You purse your lips into a thin line, suspiring in defeat in a matter of seconds. You can never win when it comes to Taeyong being persistent. That’s how he always is whenever it comes to you.

“Okay, okay.” You breathe out.

“Anyways what are you doing in my room? I have homework to do.”

Taeyong flashes his cheeky smile and bobs his shoulders. “Was actually thinking of asking you to treat bubble tea?” His smile widens till his eyes form a line.

You scoff, furrowing your eyebrows. “You’re the one that’s working here!” You shout, letting out a ‘tsk’.

“Urgh fine! You’re cooking me instant noodles though.” Taeyong points his finger at you.

“Are my instant noodles that good?”

You earn a lighted up face as Taeyong nods his head eagerly. “Something about the way you cook it just tastes different from regular instant noodles!” Taeyong squeals like a kid while he let out a soft dreamy moan while closing his eyes.

“Jeez I’m craving for bubble tea now that you’ve mention it. Hurry up and order it on Grab!” You throw the pillow behind your back to Taeyong’s face, making him snap out of his thoughts on your instant noodles.

“My God, chill! Calm your women cravings.” Taeyong mumbles, turning on his phone and proceeding to head to the app to order the bubble tea.

It’s already the next day. Luckily for you, you wouldn’t have to be there till eleven in the morning since the exhibit opens at twelve.

You peacefully wake up at nine. Though you stayed in bed and used your phone till ten. Realising the time, you gather your strength to pull yourself out of bed, dragging yourself to the bathroom with half-opened eyes despite the fact that you’ve been awake for an hour.

You know you could take your time getting ready since Taeyong knows how to ride his bike. Fast. Like extremely fast. You estimated that you’d be able to reach in ten minutes, when normally it’ll take fifteen to twenty.

“Taeyong!” You scream out in the hallway as you make your way to his room. Opening the door, you see Taeyong on his desk typing away at his keyboard.

He shot his head at the noise, turning his head sharply to the door where you are. “We’re going now?” He asks, using his middle finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing down at the papers that are scattered on his desk.

You hum, looking down at the time on your phone. “We have five minutes till we can leave.” You inform him.

Taeyong nods his head and stands up, taking off his glasses and putting it on the desk. He slowly walks up to you, eyes scanning down your outfit. “They really let you wear this?” He asks with a skeptical eye.

You narrow your eyes in response. “How am I suppose to dress?” You question back sarcastically.

“I don’t know like fancy? High class? It’s a museum type of exhibit isn’t it?” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. You roll your eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to be a tour guide. Whatever I’m still wearing this.”

You walk up to the full length mirror that’s beside Taeyong’s bed, looking down on your outfit. You decided to wear loose legged jeans along with a brown sweater vest, white button up and Vans shoes.

You smile to yourself in the mirror and turn around happily to Taeyong. “Let’s go.”

Taeyong takes out his extra helmet from the back, passing it to you. You wear it quickly while Taeyong gets on his bike, starting the engine as the noise from it can be heard loud and clear. After he takes a moment to adjust in his seat, he jerks his head to the back, signaling you to get on.

With that, you and Taeyong begin your journey of heading to the exhibit. As expected, you got there at around ten minutes. And you still had time befofe it opens. You got off and take off the helmet, passing it to Taeyong.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“I’m doing it for the instant noodles.” Taeyong says with a light chuckle, putting the helmet at the back. You swirled around to walk to the entrance. You glance over your shoulder to see Taeyong still leaning against his bike, waiting for you to head in. You shake your head and held a hand up to wave him goodbye before entering.

As you walk in, you hear Taeyong’s bike engine starting as he drives off. Looking around the exhibit, you were instantly amazed. It isn’t large, but isn’t small either. It is a completely white building with paintings and other things you would see in a museum cleanly displayed by their categories. It’s a simple yet classy set up.

You head to the counter to meet the person in charge who’s the only one in the exhibit.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dejun.” You greet with politeness, bowing your head.

“Good afternoon. Since today’s the first day I don’t think there will be too many people coming in. Other than that, I’m sure you know what to do.” Mr. Dejun informs as he writes something on the black clipboard he has in his arm.

You hum. “Yeah, I do.” You reply confidently.

“Alright I’ll be heading off now. The key to locking up the exhibit is here. Make sure to return it to the main building, okay? I won’t be coming back by the way.” Mr. Dejun adjusts the glasses on his face.

You nod your head, watching him look around the counter one last time before greeting you goodbye and walking out of the exhibit. You sigh and take a seat on the chair that’s at the counter. You look down, seeing the key along with other papers that you assume is not relevant to you.

You got comfortable, placing your bag down on the counter and start to use your phone. Getting bored after awhile, you decide to walk around the exhibit for the fun of it.

You get to where the paintings were, clasping your hands behind your back after shoving your phone into your back pocket. You get in front of picture to picture, staring at it for a moment before looking to the bottom right to read its description and moving on.

You didn’t end up spending that much time walking around since you got through the arts fairyly quickly, not really caring about admiring it.

You get back to your seat, huffing and placing your chin on the palm of your hand as you lean in, closing your eyes.

You swear you could have fallen asleep but you got awoken by the sound of footsteps coming in. You shot your head up to the entrance, seeing a tall man wearing a brown velvet suit with a pink turtleneck. he had brown hair that’s slit back, though it looks a little messy.

You question how he looked at first. Brown and pink? You thought. That is until you concentrated on his face. You had to blink your eyes a few times to capture his face in your mind while he walks off to look around.

He had a jawline and features that can cut like a knife. The way every feature on his face looked amazing and straight out of a painting from someone’s imagination of a perfect man. His hair framed his face that was made for him to pull off any outfit choices or hairstyles.

You got intrigued in an instant without a doubt. You would want to look at him more but he ended up going deep into the exhibit and disappearing out of your sight.

You frown to yourself, the picture of him etched into your brain while you trace whatever you remember of him in your head. You eventually snap out of it, proceeding to look down on your phone.

You didn’t know how much time has passed since he came in. But it felt like a long time. And you still have yet to see him exit the exhibit.

Getting curious or concern, you weren’t exactly sure, you rose from your seat. Walking around, you tried finding for him. And eventually, you did.

You stand there in silence, a few steps away from him. He had his head tilted sideways as he stares blankly into this one particularly painting. It felt like he’s been looking at it for so long, seeing how his body didn’t bother moving an inch and it looked like he was in a trance.

You suck in your lips, looking up from his hair down to his high cut black Converse sneakers. He had such a perfect body proportion along with his height. Even his side profile felt breathtaking and you couldn’t even imagine how you’d feel if you were to get up close to someone with a physique like his.

You decided to turn back and leave, taking silent steps and making your way back to the counter. You want to leave him be for the time being. But then, your stomach began to growl, urging you to have your lunch. You turn on your phone and headed to the Grab app, wanting to order some Mcdonald and have it delivered here. Mr. Dejun didn’t say that you couldn’t eat here so might as well.

Thirty minutes passed. You had you food but you still have yet to see the man leave. Curious yet again, you grab your coke and head to where you saw him last time.

He’s still there, same painting, same standing position. At this point you were getting concerned. No one can stay frozen staring at something for that long right?

You take a sip of your coke, realising that the straw made those suction noises when your cup is empty. The sound caused the man to sharply turn his head to you.

You lean back, eyes blinking as it met his. “I’ll go soon, don’t worry.” He mutters. Finally, he starts walking down deeper into the hall and looking at other paintings.

You hum, nodding your head. You decide to walk as well, wanting some of your food to be digested.

You didn’t see him leave. He probably did while you looked at some flower painting.

Oddly enough, he’s the only one that came today.

And that was your first day at the exhibit. As you lock the door with the given keys, you couldn’t help but wonder why it’s called, What is love? Observing the arts in the exhibit from the main museum building, you didn’t see anything related to love except for one or two that had a direct meaning to it. The descriptions about them didn’t exactly help either.

You could only shrug off the thought once you hear the familiar sound if Taeyong’s bike driving down the street as he comes to pick you up.

Day two comes by. you got there around the same timing with Taeyong’s help. Mr. Dejun is there again. He gives you the same instructions as yesterday, but this time you are told to make sure the peole who enter have registered in so they could keep track of who comes in and out. You were wondering why they didn’t have that system on your first day.

Quite a few people come by. Couples, families, perhaps journalists since you see them jotting something down in their notebooks while looking at the art.

What caught your eye is the fact that you see him come in again. He still looks as classy as yesterday with his slit back brown hair. But, you see someone else as well.

“This is where you wanted us to go?” You hear the women beside him say, linking her arm around his. You take a look at her up and down.

She’s absolutely stunning. From her dark brown wavy hair with curls at the bottom that reach till her chest area, the tight floral dress that cups her hourglass body perfectly, not to mention it’s proportioned beautifully just like his to the features of her face that looks just that of a model’s. You would have made an assumption that she is a model.

“Yeah, why? We can go somewhere else?” He mumbles as they take slow strides to the counter, approaching you. Needless to say, his voice is definitely amazing as well despite the few words he has said here.

The two ended up in front of you. The girl gives a simple smile. “Two tickets please.”

“You have to register with the QR code that’s there first.” You motion your hand to the sign on top of the counter that displays a huge QR code along with instructions to complete the registration.

“Ah I see. Hold on.” She jerks her arm against his, lifting her head up to the sign. He shapes his mouth into an ‘O’ as they proceed to use their phones to scan the code.

While they look down at their phones typing in their information, you thought that it’s a good time to have your eyes on him while you still can before he disappears into the exhibit.

You admire his face. You could tell his face looks breathtaking at every angle. You couldn’t see his face properly since the fringe of his hair covered his eyes a little while he’s looking down. But you liked it either way.

But you also start to wonder who that women is. His girlfriend? A close girl friend? You couldn’t exactly tell but you could make a guess that she’s more outspoken than him, seeing how he just nods his head and makes little effort to use his words when she talks to him.

“Alright, we’re done.” You shot your eyes up to them. You notice how he had his eyes on you with a blank expression. You shake your head, wanting to get yourself out of your deep admiration for the man i. front of you.

You hum, taking out the stickers that had the logo of the exhibit on it. Peeling two off, you hand it over to her. “Just stick it on your body anywhere.” You reply, attempting to sound polite.

“Also I need your names.”

Not.

You just want to know what the man’s name is.

“Nayeon.” The women brightly introduces herself. Your eyes adverted to him quickly.

“Jung Jaehyun.”

Fuck, you thought to yourself. Even his name suits him well. You practically couldn’t find a single flaw on this man appearance wise. You would want to talk to him, if Nayeon isn’t here with him today.

The two head off and the hours fly by as usual. To ease yourself out of boredom, you went to walk around the exhibit again, watching people admiring the arts and having small chitchats.

As you walk by the place where you saw Jaehyun standing yesterday, you realise the two are there. Standing in front of the same painting.

“This is boring. Let’s walk around more.” You hear Nayeon say loudly. You could’ve sworn you seen a look of anger or disappointment, or maybe both on Jaehyun’s face. But as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared quickly as well.

“Sure.” Jaehyun plainly says as he walks behind Nayeon. He glances back at the painting before having his eyes scan the area. His eyes meet yours for a brief second. You feel your body tense up so quick. You never felt something like this in a long time since you stopped dating when college started.

Absentmindedly, or maybe perhaps not, you ended up walking to wherever they went, following their footsteps and being quite a few meters away from them, they were in your sight almost all the tims.

One thing that stood out to you is the fact that Jaehyun looked somewhat gloomy or annoyed, even bored in fact. He didn’t look like this yesterday. And it’s obvious that the reason for that is Nayeon. You can’t understand why, not really diving too deep into it.

At some moment, Nayeon walks off with her phone to her ear, probably answering a call and exiting the exhibit.

“You don’t seem to be having fun.” You say, walking up to Jaehyun and standing beside him as you look at the painting in front of you.

He turns his head, looking down on you. He scoffs. “Is it that obvious?” Jaehyun asks, though the both of you seem to know the answer to that.

“Totally not.” You reply sarcastically, sliding your phone into your back pocket. “I saw you came by yesterday.” You start.

“I remembered you since you were the only one here.” Despite your eyes being on the painting, you couldn’t help but feel that his eyes start piercing into your skin. Looking up, you see him staring at you.

“Well to be fair it’s an exhibit that’s not popular yet.” Jaehyun lightly shrugs. “I actually thought I’d see my friend here. Guess not.” A small, almost unnoticeable frown creeps up his face.

“Friend? Who exactly?”

“Xiao Dejun. The one in charge of this place.”

You let out a soft “Ah...” while nodding your head. “He’s only here before my shift starts. And he never comes back either. I thought that’s something a friend should know.”

Jaehyun lets out a quiet sigh. “He’s too focused on this to let me know I guess.”

Just as he says that, you hear the clanking of Nayeon’s high heels coming in from the entrance. You know it’s her since she’s the only one wearing high heels here. “Looks like your boring date is back.” You joke with a small smile.

Jaehyun chuckles, brushing his thumb across his nose and shoving his hands into his pocket. “Sure is.”

“Hope thay you’ll be done with it soon.” You say, giving him a little encouragement to light up his mood. He didn’t reply to your statement and instead laughs softly, making you practically swoon for him in your mind when he lets out a, “Thanks.”

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow, Jaehyun?”

“Perhaps, uh your name?”

“_____”

With that, the two of you exchanged smiles once again as you walk off, seeing her hugging him from behind and dragging him off.

You couldn’t help but smile, him calling your name resonating in your head over and over as you head back to the counter.

Moments later the two left and you went along with completing the rest of the shift.

“Jung Jaehyun?” Taeyong asks, taking a bite of his chicken. You completely forgot to eat lunch today so you texted Taeyong to meet you to have dinner at the nearby fast food restaurant.

You nod your head eagerly. “He’s so handsome and hot and just.. ah~” You close your eyes as you picture him in your mind, moaning dreamily as you thought about him.

“He sounds familiar not going to lie.” Taeyong shrugs, reaching his hand out to grab your mashed potatoes that were on your tray.

“Hey that’s mine!” You shout. Taeyong giggles cheekily. “You didn’t eat so I’ll assume you don’t want it.” He flashes his eye smile, making you look at him with disgust.

“Uh no I’m saving it for last. Why didn’t you get your own?”

“I forgot okay!” Taeyong huffs, angrily taking a scoop and putting it in his mouth. “I’ll share don’t worry.”

You roll your eyes. “So is he going to go there tomorrow?”

“He said probably.” You plainly shrug. “I mean I hope I do. I get to see him again.” You smile to yourself, looking down at your finished tray like an idiot.

“From what you tell me, it really feels like you’re just stalking him.” Taeyong adds with a scoff. You let out a ‘tsk’, grabbing a tissue to wipe and clean off your fingers.

“I don’t! Okay maybe. But seriously if you seen him, I’m pretty sure you would’ve turned gay for him.”

“Imagine how hot that’ll be. Seeing how you are handsome, and he’s handsome too. Ah the gayness!” You squeal, tapping your toes and as you grin widely.

“I’ll floor you at home. Watch me.” Taeyong threatens, throwing you a sharp glare. “You can drop by tomorrow to see him if you’d like. I can text you when he comes.” You bob your shoulder, a slight smirk creeping up your lips.

Taeyong hums and nods his head, grabbing his drink and taking one last sip to finish it. “Don’t disappoint me. If I don’t like what I see, I can say it as a fact that you have low standards.”

You gap your mouth open, placing a hand on your chest and gasping, overreacting at his statement. “Oh please. I’ll never.” You say with full confidence.

The next day at around three in the afternoon, Jaehyun enters the exhibit.

“Good afternoon, _____” Jaehyun greets in a polite yet trying to sound fun manner

“Afternoon, Jaehyun.” You flash a bright smile.

“Do I still need to register?” Jaehyun asks, leaning against the counter and closer to you. You blink your eyes rapidly, wanting to take a moment to look at his face up close but shake your head out of it immediately.

“Yeah. You need to do it every time you come.” You inform him, your phone flat on the table as you boredly scroll through Twitter.

“Alright.” He does the same procedure and proceeds to walk off, giving you a soft and kind smile before doing so.

You immediately went to iMessage, texting Taeyong that he’s here and keeping to your promise that you’ll let him see Jaehyun. Almost instantly, you hear the door open and reveal Taeyong casually walking in.

You widen your eyes in shock. “Wait the fuck?” You say as Taeyong walks up to the counter and leans his body againsy it. “So where is he?” Taeyong asks with full curiosity, peeking is head into the exhibit.

“Wait how did you even get here before I texted you?” Taeyong simply shrugs. “I didn’t go back home. I had lunch then I saw a dude who’s the only one that seem to go inside so I just assume that’s Jaehyun.”

“Wow...” You reply in awe, sounding surprised, buf also not.

Taeyong keeps his eyes at the exhibit, moving his head to see all it from all directions. “Where did he go?”

You pucker your lips in response. “Might have gon’ to that painting again. I don’t know why but every time he comes by, he just looks at this one painting. He can literally stand there and only leave hours later.”

Taeyong laughs, clapping his hands. “There’s no way, you idiot. He obviously moves around while you’re here.” Taeyong breathes out, patting his chest to calm his laughter.

“But I saw him!” You growled, reaching a hand out to punch Taeyong in the chest, making him wince. “Yeah, yeah sure.” Taeyong taunts. You roll your eyes.

Suddenly, you see Jaehyun coming out of the corner. You smack Taeyong’s arm constantly to get his attention and point your finger to the direction where Jaehyun has his back facing you.

“There!” You whisper. You really did look like a fan swooning over her idol.

“Oh my God wait. Yo, Jaehyun!” Taeyong suddenly shouts out. You widen your eyes at his sudden action. You weren’t sure whether that’s suppose to embarrass you or he actually knows Jaehyun.

Jaehyun turns his head around slowly. His eyes went to you first before Taeyong, a bright smile emerging his lips instantly. “Woah Yongie!” Jaehyun walks over. He nudges Taeyong’s shoulder with a balled fist, making him chuckle.

“Uh.. So you know him?” You ask, you finger going back and forth between Taeyong and Jaehyun. Taeyong chuckles, nodding his head. “Yeah back in college.” Taeyong says. “She’s on her last year.” He adds on, gently motioning his hand to you.

“We had a chat yesterday.” You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks getting hot ever so slightly. You hum. “I was hoping you’d come so that you can see Taeyong.”

What a huge lie.

Taeyong couldn’t but scoff, making you and Jaehyun look at him with raised brows. “Pft, oh really?” He asks, sounding pushy. You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at him intensively in hopes that he will not push it any further.

“So!” Taeyong starts after an awkward moment of silence. “Since Jae’s here, wanna eat something for lunch?”

Jaehyun looks up, thinking for awhile before tilting his head back down to Taeyong. Though, his eyes met yours for a split second that made your heart skip a beat. “Alright.”

“Order me take out then.” You say, disappointment filling your tone ever so slightly, which Taeyong instantly picked up.

“Aw I would have invited you if you didn’t have work, right Jae?” Taeyong had a wide smirk on his face for a second before turning to Jaehyun. He lets out a simple chuckle. “True.”

You frown, raising a hand up to wave it at them lazily as a sign to push them away. “Okay, okay. Just go and come back quick. I want food.”

With that, you ended your third day. You ended up spending more time with Jaehyun than you’d expect, which makes you happy every time you thought about him.

The next day, oddly enough, Jaehyun didn’t come by. You didn’t see him coming in around the time he would be entering. And he never did. You waited for him impatiently, waiting eagerly for that one time you get to see him for a brief moment before he goes in to look at the painting yet again.

It felt almost weird to you. Despite you meeting him for only three days, you felt somewhat accustomed to be seeing him for the rest of the week. And him not coming in today felt out of place. It shocked you how attached to him you got. But to be honest, who wouldn’t?

You start wondering why he didn’t come. But the reality dawned on you pretty quick. He had his own live of course. He obviously has other things to do. Work? Family and friends? You thought that he couldn’t possibly be coming in everyday.

“I see you came back with her.” You whisper to Jaehyun, leaning in slightly. He heaves a sigh, rubbing his temples. “It’s... complicated. She’s probably talking to her father.” Jaehyun jerks his head to the seating area outside the exhibit, where you see Nayeon on the phone.

“Sorry if I’m intruding or anything...” You start off. Jaehyun raises both his eyebrows and humming. “But why do you keep coming here? I mean other than yesterday, it just seems like you come here just to look at that one painting in the corner of the exhibit.”

Jaehyun puckers his lips, shrugging after. “That’s complicated to answer too. Well, not really but-”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to answer.”

Just then, Nayeon comes back, running over to Jaehyun and holding his hand, interlocking their fingers. It really made you wonder whether Nayeon is actually Jaehyun’s girlfriend that he loves or is dating her for another reason.

Once again Jaehyun immediately looks bored. Before they walk in the exhibit, he looks over his shoulder to look at you. You mouth a, “Good luck.” With a light laugh, making him nod his head and turning back to the front.

With that, your bore through the hours of your shirt. For such a simple job, you were surprised at how much you were being paid. But that was all you care about anyways. The money. It served you as motivation to just push through the boring hours.

It’s near closing time now. You stood up to walk around the exhibit to make sure there’s no one left. As you head back to the counter to grab your things, you stop in your tracks when you see Jaehyun and Nayeon standing outside at the seating area. “Are they fighting or something?” You mutter to yourself as you watch Nayeon screaming at Jaehyun while he avoids her eyes with folded arms.

You raised a skeptical brow, not knowing what they’re fighting about and continued ahead to pack your things and turning off all the nights. You take one last look around the exhibit before grabbing the keys in your hand.

Just when you were about to head out, you now see Jaehyun sitting on the bench with his back facing you, his head leaning against the glass. You gulp and open the door, making him shot his head towards you.

“What happened? I saw you and Nayeon fighting.” You say, turning around and using the keys to lock up the exhibit. Jaehyun stands up, running a hand through his hair.

“We broke up.” Jaehyun says in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

“Um well I guess you need time alone?” You raised your shoulders, taking in a deep breath.

Jaehyun walks closer to you, and with each step your heart began to race quicker. You bit your bottom lip in nervousness, despite him not standing that close. “Not exactly.” He replies shortly.

You furrow your eyebrows, tilting your head in confusion. “Then what? I’m not exactly the type who’s good at comforting people.” You say, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. “Unless it’s food. I can treat you to food.”

Jaehyun nods his head, glancing sideways before looking down at you. “Okay. Then invite me to dinner.” He reauests nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pocket as he copies your body language.

After blinking your eyes a few times, you say, “W-What like now? Do you want to eat dinner now?”

Jaehyun simply nods. It’s surprising how casual he is towards you, but you really liked it so you didn’t mind. “It’ll be nice if we could drink as well. I need to get Nayeon off my mind for tonight.”

You puff your cheeks and blew the air out. “I know a place.”

It all feels crazy to you right now. You’ve only met Jaehyun in less than a week but here you are, having dinner with him. You could guess that he’s being awfully casual since he knows that you and Taeyong are friends. But it also surprised you as to how the silence between the two of you is comfortable.

The two of you eat in silence, munching on your food with your heads down and glancing at each other a few times while you look up to take a shot of soju.

You eventually start talking. Specifically about his college life and how he met Taeyong. You felt that it’s the only way to connect with him since he did graduate from the same college as the one you’re attending.

“What’s your major?” Jaehyun asks as he reaches his hand out to pour me a shot. I downed it quickly, exhaling calmly. “Psychology. Have pills of homework I need to get done.”

You click your tongue, twirling the fork in your hand as you feel the alcohol kicking in already. To be fair, you are one to get drunk easily. Jaehyun doesn’t know that, and you’ve subconsciously been drinking more than your usual intake as your chat with Jaehyun goes on.

“Really? Why didn’t you say? I took psychology too.” You raise both eyebrows in response, closing your eyes for a moment. “Perhaps you can help me.”

Jaehyun leans in, his chin resting on his fingers that were interlocked. “Should we go somewhere?” You tilt your head, placing a hand behind your neck and rubbing it gently. “Where exactly?” You question him.

“Your home. Where else? Taeyong must be worried that you’re drunk on a work night.” You scoff in amusement, your mouth still open after you did. “And? It’s just a part time job.” You giggle, covering your face with the palm of your hand. Clearly, you already weren’t in your right mind.

You didn’t know how, but you blanked out. And somehow arrived at the rooftop of a run down apartment. But after looking around, you facepalm yourself in your mind, realising it’s your apartment’s rooftop that you’re at.

You had your head laid on Jaehyun’s shoulder. Turning your head slightly, it made Jaehyun look down on you. “Awake already?” He whispers, leaning in and making his face inches away from yours. To which you couldn’t help but blush in a matter of seconds.

“What time is it?” You scrambled around to find your bag to take out your phone but before you could turn of your phone, Jaehyun replies, “Two in the morning.” with a casual tone.

“Are you the type to wake up late?” He asks once again. You took this time, in your “drunken” state to snuggle your head into the crook of Jaehyun’s neck, finding a comfortable spot and breathing in his scent. A scent you could indulge yourself with all the time if you could.

You hum. “Yeah. Not gonna lie, I’ll probably be late tomorrow.” Your lips brushed against Jaehyun’s skin as you reply.

Jaehyun clears his throat, letting out a sigh. “Do you want to know why I always go to the same painting at the exhibit?” You bit your lower lip. Finally, the question you have asked yourself throughout the days when Jaehyun comes by.

“That one painting. It’s actually my grandmother’s. She painted it before she passed away. I found out about the exhibit Xiaojun was gonna open, and asked him to display for painting.”

As Jaehyun talks, you take in the atmosphere. The cold breeze against your skin. The night sky reflecting its moonlight onto the city’s streets and building. How peaceful it all felt, with the person you’ve been wanting this whole week the moment you saw him. You know how you got close to him, but it also felt as though you didn’t. Like a atring attached to the two of you, getting shorter and shorter till you reach this moment. A moment where you are so close that it feels like it’s too close.

“Her painting showed her own way of depicting love. I saw the other arts in the exhibit, it all had one general idea. Love. Different artists, different perspectives of love. Some showed it to be seen as butterflies and rainbows. While others depict it as something to stay away from, something you should be afraid of. Romantic love, that is.”

You hum, nodding your head. “I never expected you to be someone this deep.” You mumble. Jaehyun replies with a chuckle. A chuckle you have now grown used to. “I do art, other than psychology. But I stopped when I had to make more time for my major.”

“Continue.” You whisper. He takes a second to tilt his head up and taking in a deep breath before resuming.

“My grandmother’s painting showed both the good and bad sides of love. I knew her love life wasn’t a regular one. But I somehow was able to understand it after hours of just staring at her painting and its very brief description about it.”

You smile to yourself. You really could hear him talk for hours on end and never get tired of it.

“Want to know something?”

You absentmindedly wrap your arms around his torso, moving in close to get even more comfortable. It felt right just doing it. Surprisingly enough, Jaehyun wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close. Not too tight, not too loose. His touch sent constant electric shocks throughout your body. But it felt right. Just this moment alone, like time has frozen for you to admire it while it lasts.

“I hoped everyday you’d come to the exhibit. Just to see your face.” You say, closing your eyes as you feel his heartbeat on his chest, putting you at ease. You weren’t sure if Jaehyun’s drunk, if he’d remember anything you say. You did think of the embarrassment you’d have to face the next day, but you just didn’t bother.

“I caught your eye that fast?” Jaehyun asks.

You nod your head immediately. “You should know that yourself.”

The two of your laugh softly at the same time. This feeling, this moment. Is it the alcohol that’s doing all this? Is Jaehyun really like this or is it only when he’s drunk? Is he actually taking whatever you’re saying and can remember it the first thing in the morning?

You know you could’nt. Which is why you try to take in this night as much as possible so that it would be in your memory forever, dream or not.

“Let’s go to the exhibit together tomorrow. I’ll come by your house to pick you up.”

Silence ensues, this time it’s much longer. But as mentioned before, you felt comfortable, as though this is how it should have always been.

A sudden connection you feel with a mere stranger. Within days, you've formed an unfamiliar yet familiar bond with him, despite the minimal interactions. The world somehow made the two of you end up in such a cliche situation.

“Would love that.”

[soulwillower]

when richie met y/n • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

prologue

requested: idk if your taking requests rn BUTTTT could you do a richie fic that’s like when harry met sally? if you’ve seen it that is 🌟🌟🌟~🤍

warnings: mentions of sexist stuff, bc richie is a dick, mentions of sex, slander of the name sheldon (sorry), talking about the plot of casablanca but you dont rly have to have seen it lol

ok so i know i havent finished tozier but i just recently rewatched this movie and figured i’d write the prologue for this planed series n post it <3

[losers + reader have just graduated college in this. ]

2.3k words

♡

it’s after graduation '92 when y/n y/l/n first meets richard tozier. 

the trees are turning red and crusting off the tips of branches, the bitter cold of the university whipping around your car even though it's supposed to be nearing the end of spring. you're sitting awkwardly now, with your window cranked down, eyes glued to the couple at the edge of the sidewalk. they're entagled with each other enough that all you can make out is wild dark and curly hair, a sharp jawline, and the girl’s blonde hair gathered in a fist of the mysterious boy. but you'd notice your friend amanda anywhere, even if her back is turned and face occupied with another’s. 

you clear your throat, but they ignore you, the boy whose hands are wrapped around her waist tilting her jaw to kiss her even deeper. "i love you." she whispers. you feel awkward, and roll your eyes. it's still seconds later and so you clear your throat, muttering, "amanda." 

she jumps apart from the boy. "oh, hi y/n. um, y/n, this is richie tozier. richie, this is y/n y/l/n."

you lock eyes with the boy, who's got a smirk on his lips as he wipes his mouth. you watch as amanda's lip gloss rubs off his bright red lips, "nice to meet you, y/n." 

you nod back at him, antsy to start driving and nervous for some reason. "hi. you want to drive the first shift?"

he laughs slightly, shaking his head as his wild dark curls bounce around. he’s devastatingly handsome, and you’re not surprised amanda loves him so much. he pulls his crewneck's sleeves over his hands and shrugs, "no, you're there already, you can start if that works." you nod, slightly put off, but shrugging it off. 

"okay. the back's open." you watch awkwardly as the boy lifts his belongings into the space in your trunk, amanda coming up and hugging his tall, skinny frame. "please call me." she whispers. he nods and you watch from the rearview mirror, "call you as soon as we get there, baby." he says. your friend amanda whines, "oh, please call me from the road. "  the boy, richie, cracks a charming grin, "i'll call you before that."

almost gagging, you turn your attention to the radio and fiddle it, waiting for richie and amanda to finish making out against the back of your car. 

it's awkward once you start driving, richie tapping his long fingers against his knee as you stare at the road ahead of you. you clear your throat, "i have it all figured out. it's an eighteen hour trip, which breaks down into six shifts of three hours each. or, alternatively, we could break it down by mileage-" but while you're speaking, richie's leaning to fiddle around with a bag in the back. you blink, "er, there's a...there's a map on the... visor that i've marked to show the locations so we can change shifts." 

richie barely hums and crunches on something, making you turn to look at him. he lifts his brows, "grapes?"

you lift a brow, "n-no. i don't like to eat between meals." you say, eyes going between him and the road, where he spits out the grape seeds. "alright, y/n. why don't you tell me the story of your life." his sentence makes you do a double-take and you almost laugh. 

 when he sees your bewildered expression, he shrugs, "we've got eighteen hours to kill before we hit new york." 

shaking your head, "the story of my life won't even get us out of chicago." that makes him laugh, a sound that was shockingly unexpected as it cuts through the stale air of your car. a light, excited and shocked laugh that makes you smile as you watch the road, your eyes stealing a glance at the abrupt and disheveled boy lounging in the passenger seat. 

it's four hours later, and richie's convinced you to pull into a small diner on the side of the road. "-you're wrong." you shake your head as you enter the lot. "i'm not wrong, he wants her to leave! that's why he puts her on the plane." richie insists. you shake your head, "no, i don't think she wants to stay."you insist.  richie rolls his eyes at you, "of course she wants to stay. wouldn't you rather be with humphrey bogart than the other guy?"

you shrug, "i don't want to spend the rest of my life in casablanca married to a man who runs a bar. i probably sound very snobbish to you, but i don't.” 

richie looks shocked and annoyed, slamming the car door shut to catch up to you as you walk towards the front doors. "you'd rather be in a passionless marriage." you nod, "well, yeah, and be the first lady of czechoslovakia."

"really? that rather than live with the man you've had the greatest sex of your life with, and just because he owns a bar and that is all he does."

 you glare at him, "ingrid bergman is sensible, okay? that's why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie. she knows better, just like i do." 

as a waitress takes you to a booth, richie hums behind you with amusement laced into his voice. "ohh, okay. okay. i understand now." you look at him, "what?" but he shakes his head. "nothing." "tell me."  "no. forget about it." "forget about what? tell me." you insist.  richie's pushing up his glasses and staring at the menu, grinning. "it's not important." "-just tell me!" you hiss.  richie pushes his menu down and looks at you cockily. "obviously you haven't had great sex yet."

you blink, staring at him in shock. this stranger, who you met hours ago, is telling you that you haven't had good sex yet? you scowl, "yes i have." you snap. 

he laughs, looking at the menu still. "no you haven't."

you accidentally project your next words loudly, "it just so happens that i have had plenty of good sex."

 it goes silent at the diner, all the eyes on you. the waiters and workers stare, the other patrons watching with wide eyes as richie just grins at you. you feel yourself go red with embarrassment. what is it about this kid that gets you so mad?  

richie seems unphased. "well, with who?" he asks. you mutter, "whom." to correct him, and so he folds his hands and tries again, "with whom are you having this fantastic sex?"  "i'm not telling you that."  "fine, don't tell me." richie says with a shrug, reading over the menu once again. you study his face, the light smirk that seems to be plastered onto his lips permanently; the freckles over his cheeks, forehead and nose. something about him makes you feel like you have to prove yourself.  "shel gordon." you say after a moment. 

"shel? sheldon?" he asks, eyes dark blue as they lock with yours. he laughs, "no, no, you didn't have great sex with sheldon."

"fuck you." you spit. he's still chuckling as he says, "no, no. sheldon can do your income taxes. if you need a root canal, sheldon's your man. but humping and pumping is not sheldon's strong suit." you wrinkle your nose at his vulgar language. "it's the name. 'do it to me sheldon, oh, you're an animal 'sheldon.' it doesn't work." he says, moaning loudly and making you red. you swat him and he laughs. 

 you're furious, but the waitress shows up and asks for your orders. "hiya doll, i'll have the number three, please." richie orders. the waitress looks at you. you smile, "i'd like the chef salad please with the oil and vinegar on the side and the apple pie a la mode. but if possible, i'd like the pie heated and i don't want the ice cream on top i want it on the side. and i'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it? if not then no ice cream, just whipped cream - but only if it's real. if it's out of a can then nothing."

the waitress looks at you and you can feel richie's eyes on you in the silence following your order. "not even the pie?" she asks, while writing. you shake your head, "no, just the pie, but then not heated.” she looks at you slightly but nods,  "noted, coming right up."

you look at richie, "what?" you ask as he stares at you. he shakes his head, "nothing, nothing. so how come you broke up with this sheldon?" he asks. 

you stare at him, irritated and regretting agreeing to this road trip. "how you know we broke up?" you say. richie grins, "because if you didn't break up, you wouldn't be here with me, you'd be off boning with sheldon the wonder-schlong."  "richie."

the next moment you know you shouldn't have agreed to this is an hour later, back on the road. you can feel richie's eyes burning into your head, so you stop singing.

 "you should probably keep your eyes on the road." you suggest lightly, making the boy crack a smirk. "you're a very attractive person." he says earnestly. you look back down to the map in your hands, "thank you."

"amanda never said how attractive you were." richie says, as if he's just saying whatever he's thinking. "well maybe she doesn't think i'm attractive." you say with a shrug.

 richie hums,"i don't think it's a matter of opinion," you can't help the butterflies in your chest at the compliment. "y'know, like...empirically you're attractive."

you frown, distrustful that richie's being so flirty with his girlfriend's friend. "amanda is my friend." you say. 

richie looks at you with a tilt of the head, "yeah, so?" "-so, you're going with her." "so?"  you scowl, "so you're coming on to me!"

richie's eyebrows shoot up and he looks defensive, "no i wasn't- what?" you're unimpressed, eyes widening and jaw dropping. this boy is full of shit, and the smirk on his face proves it. you don't think you're much of a big fan of this richie kid. 

"can't a man say a woman is attractive without it being a come-on?" he asks with a blindingly charming smile that makes you glare. "-alright, alright, let's just say just for the sake of argument that it was a come-on. what do you want me to do about it? i take it back, okay? i take it back."

you cross your arms, staring out the window. "you can't take it back." richie groans, "why not?" "because it's already out there." "oh god, what are we suppose to do, call the cops? it's already out there!" he yelps, swerving on the road and making you grip your seat. "just let it lie, okay?" you say, annoyed. "great! let it lie. that's my policy. that's what i always say, let it lie." richie mutters, and you shoot him a glance before looking back at the rolling greenery outside the window.  it's quiet for a moment, then, "wanna spend the night at a motel?"

your jaw drops, richie beating you to speaking as he laughs at your reaction. he finds it so funny, but all you do is glare. asshole.  "see what i did? i didn't let it lie." "richie." you say. "i said i wouldn't and i didn't." he adds.  "richie." 

"in fact, i went the other way, i-" you cut richie off, "richie!"  he looks at you, "what?" you shake your head, huffing. "we're just going to be friends, okay?" 

"fine by me. friends, it's the best thing. " he says.

it's silent for ten more minutes, and you almost get to sleep until you're jolted awake by a voice you've been forced to listen two for six hours straight. "-you realize, of course, that we can never be friends."

his words, while irritating beyond belief, do capture your attention. "and why not?" you say. 

he swallows. "what I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.”

its silent for a second as you take in the stupidity of his words. "jesus, richie. that's not true, i have a number of men friends and there's no sex involved.”

“no you don't.” he says matter-of-factly. you scowl, "yes i do.”  

“no you don't.”  “yes i do.”  "you only think you do.”

"you're saying i'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?" you sass, rolling your eyes so hard it hurts. richie huffs a short laugh, "no, what i'm saying is they all want to have sex with you." 

you wrinkle your nose. "they do not. that's really disgusting."  "maybe it is, but it’s true." "they do not!" you insist, turning in your seat to stare at him. "do too." your jaw goes slack and you narrow your eyes, "how do you know?"

"because. no man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive - he always wants to have sex with her."

you feel like punching him in the face. "so you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive." you say, feeling disgusted by his sexism. "we- uh, you pretty much wanna nail 'em too."

you groan, "well what if the women don't want to have sex with you?" you say. "well, sure. but it's still ruined because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that’s the end of the story. men are very stupid and painfully simple creatures."

"well i guess we're not going to be friends then." you snap, turning to look back out the window. he's such a fucking douche, you can't believe you're trapped in this car with him for ten more hours. 

"guess not." he mutters.

you sigh, "that's too bad. you're the only person i knew in new york."

you slept for eight of the ten hours left, and when you’re unloading richie's luggage from your car in front of a small apartment, he nudges you slightly. you look up at him as he towers above you, raising a brow. you hate to admit it, but this asshole is awfully cute when he’s not being the devil.  

"thanks for the ride." he says with a soft smile. 

you nod, "yeah, it was... interesting." you say. he smiles, "it was nice knowing you." he offers his hand out to you, and you grip it, his hand warm and rough in yours. "yeah." is all you can say. 

richie steps away, grabbing his things. "well... have a nice life." you say as you get back into the car. 

"you too, y/n." 

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[todourouki]

Some Chick Like You (2) | Bakugou

a requested one shot | part one

✰ the people asked, and I delivered (: thank you so much to the anon that requested part two— here you go <3 also isn’t the anon asked thing cute? Should I keep doing it? Omg idk lmaoooo but yea enjoy!

✰ SUMMARY the one where you don’t really know what to do with yourself when you find your friend kissing your neck on top of you in nothing but pure desire— especially if he’s one of your boyfriend’s biggest rivals.

PAIRING Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader & Angry-Boy!Izuku

WORD COUNT 2.1k

WARNINGS explicit language, a little bit of physical shit, angst (I’m so sorry bby Izuku), and fluff bc I’m a weak bitch no I don’t take constructive criticism!

You weren’t sure what it was about Bakugou’s lips that captivated you so much, but even with the brainwashingly sinful way his lips moved against yours, the knock on the door brought you back to your senses.

As if on queue, you pushed his body away from yours as you panted roughly and searched for some source of air in the room. You watched his face flush, eyes narrow as a smirk began to lift onto his once soft features.

Somehow through the turmoil, his fingers itched into your folds, squeezing all of what was in you out and now silking across his thick, long fingers. You almost passed out when you saw him suck his fingers and slip them out your mouth with a pop.

“Next time,” he stood up, hovering over your body for a second to grip your chin roughly with his wet fingers in a way that made you gasp, “you’ll clean my fingers for me.”

Without a second glance, you watched his muscular body push your head back and walk towards the door across the couch you were currently resting in. You took this as a sign to gather yourself up a bit, your cheeks still flushed from the intimate acts done moments ago.

With a quick adjustment of both your bra and t-shirt, you heard him open the door and immediately watched as his back tensed up. Without even getting a chance to ask who it was, the voice you heard made your heart fall to the ground and practically explode.

“Hello Kacchan, is Y/N here?” You didn’t miss the malice behind the word Kacchan, the way your boyfriend said both of your names as if there was venom laced within each letter.

You sat up, gulping as you watched a scarred hand plant itself against the door and push an awestruck Bakugou to the side.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice that once rang with such excitement said in the driest tone you had ever heard, and you found yourself gripping onto the couch with white knuckles to keep yourself from exposing what had just happened, “I didn’t expect to find you here. I’ve been calling you for a while.”

“Yea,” you struggled to say, the air leaving your lungs as you fell under his harsh stare, “I was just h-here with Bakugou to get some advice.”

Izuku’s voice never scared you. He never raised his voice at you, never spoke with an attitude or with a scowl, never called you by your first name even. Yet watching as his eyebrows drew forward and watched you plainly made your own eyes gloss over in fear.

“I-” you picked your phone up from the floor, seeing that a phone call was still ongoing and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I didn’t get a call—”

Your voice froze as you unlocked your phone and watched the time frame continue on. Forty-five minutes. You had been on the phone with Izuku for forty five fucking minutes.

Your throat got dry, breath hallowing in a way that made you feel as if the room had started spinning and stopped over and over again. The seconds continued, mocking your horrified glare as your lip began to quiver.

There was no way Izuku didn’t hear anything— he had to have heard everything. There was no way you could escape this, even with the fact that he has your location on and probably stormed over here as soon as he heard you lewdly moan Bakugou’s name.

Oh god, he heard you beg Bakugou to fuck you. Your boyfriend of two years heard you beg another man to fuck you harder than he ever has.

You couldn’t stop the single tear from falling down your eyes, the guilt and shock stopping you from being able to thoroughly respond to anything being said.

You eyes snapped up at him, watching the freckle-faced boy glare at you as if you were the scum on the bottom of his shoes. Nobody said anything, both you and Bakugou avoiding each other’s faces as you watched Izuku take a step closer towards you and toss a bouquet of flowers on your lap.

“The worst decision I ever made in my life was consider you to be someone I loved.” He snarled, the flowers seeming to have been destroyed in anger as you glanced over at them. A cry left your lips, shoving the flowers off your lap and quickly standing up in fear of him walking out.

“Izuku please, I-I..” You couldn’t find any words to explain yourself, and the hickey on your neck only showing more as you motioned your way towards him to grab his hand.

The minute he saw it, his body erupted with lightening as he zoomed forward and gripped your neck into the wall. Izuku wasn’t thinking straight, the anger fogging his mind as he snapped your neck towards the side to watch the hickey in disgust.

“Please what, Y/N?” He yelled, his soft voice turning into one of anger as his voice cracked in the midst of his words.

You could see the tears pooling at his eyelashes. Your heart was broken. You never wanted to hurt him, if anyone deserved to be okay and not be hurt and just be happy, it was Izuku Midoriya. The words you wanted to hush his tears with refused to come out as instead a whimper did at the way his hands gripped your neck.

You watched Bakugou from the corner of your eye tense up at the position, taking cautious steps over to the boy with his hands in fists. The bright flash of yellow-orange made you realize he was beginning to get angry and that just frustrated you more than your lightheaded brain already was.

“Deku, let go—” Bakugou began to warn him, his body inching closer until Midoriya’s hand slammed into the wall next to you.

A hole was dangerously carved next to your head and a breathless sob left your lips. The air of the punch repeated next to your ear and you could still feel the intensity of both of their eyes as your head began to lose consciousness. You weren’t even mad at him, how could you be.

“Get the fuck away from me, Bakugou!” Midoriya yelled, making Bakugou raise an eyebrow unamused and place his intently hot hand on top of the one gripping your neck into the wall.

“I said let go of her.” Katsuki now spoke with more authority, the hand now gripping onto Izuku’s letting smoke rise from the crevices and you realized he was literally burning Izuku’s hand.

You wanted to yell and tell him to stop— just get them both to stop but the words couldn’t leave your throat. Nothing could once your body dropped down to your knees the minute Midoriya let you go harshly and faced the unphased blond across from you.

“Why the fuck were your filthy hands on her?!” Izuku yelled, the lightning around his body becoming more and more visible and green in a way that made the hair on the back of your neck stand.

Bakugou was still unphased.

“Maybe if you fucked your girlfriend right, I wouldn’t have had to.” The hothead’s voice was smug, and you gasped the minute you heard Izuku yell and pull his hands into electrifying fists.

“You two fucked?! That’s what I heard?!” He exclaimed, your body gripping the coffee stand next to you as you regained balance and made your way back to a standing position.

“No,” Bakugou scolded, a smirk then raising up to his lips as his gripped hand then opened and errupting in small cracklings noises to showcase his disguised anger, “but I would have if you didn’t come inter—”

It was like slow motion, and you weren’t fast enough to stop it from happening. Before you could react, Izuku’s hard fist slammed into Bakugou’s cheek in a way that threw his head over to the side. You yelled for him to stop, grabbing his arm back to try to deescalate the situation, yet Izuku’s hand shrugged out of your grasp.

“Get your fucking hand off me, please.” Izuku threatened, making you release his hands and lift yours up to signal you were backing up.

Bakugou spit onto his floor, a visible cut beginning to exude blood from the bottom of his eye to his jawline. You felt a pang in your chest, ignoring it as you turned your attention back to Izuku. He only avoided your gaze, tears still running down his face as his breath only wavered more and more.

“You know, it fucking shocks me.” Bakugou begins, spitting again as some blood slipped through his lips and now into a puddle on the ground. Izuku said nothing, glaring at him with his fists ready to strike again.

Slowly, Bakugou turned his head towards Midoriya again, his red eyes visibly growing in fury as he clenched his jaw with that same smug smirk as before that got him punched in the first place.

“It just shocks me that Y/N would be with someone like you, Deku.” The minute the nickname slipped off his lips, he spat onto the ground in disgust as the smirk returned once again.

You winced are his words, watching the situation with a certain guilty pain in your chest. Why am I enjoying the fact that they’re fighting over me? What is my fucking problem?

“You don’t take care of her, that’s something that she fucking needs.” His words were rough, the anger he once learned how to resolve returning again.

You hadn’t heard Bakugou yell the way he did in high school and in the beginning of his career in years, and the return of it made your eyes widen. This wasn’t getting any better and that worried you.

“I do take care—” “Oh shut the fuck up Deku, if she didn’t she wouldn’t be here with me. I planned on taking care of her the way someone like her deserves.”

Bakugou’s voice rang through your head, a gleam in his eye as he glanced at you quickly and turned back towards the shaking boy in front of him.

Izuku stood quiet, his anger seething through his chest as he surprised you by unclenching his fists. He said nothing, walking over to the counter that held his phone and freezing when his back faced to two of you.

“Your things will be packed away in whatever bags I find and will be sent back to your apartment. Don’t bother coming back, the locks will probably already be changed.”

“Also, I’m sorry about your neck. I’d never do anything to hurt you in that way, and I wasn’t thinking.”

More tears streamed down your face as you wanted to beg for him to stop. His words mocked you, the pain in your chest growing with guilt. You knew that what you did was wrong, and you knew he would never forgive you for this. How could he? He literally sat through 45 minutes of you moaning another man’s name. There was no way of changing his mind and you knew that.

You watched as he slammed Bakugou’s door open, pausing as if he was going to say something else the way he had before but simply slamming it shut again and disappearing into the hall.

A strangled cry left your lips, your hands reaching towards your neck to feel at the bruise you knew was growing. Bakugou fled towards you, softly questioning you to see if you were okay and dragging you away from the holed-up wall and to the sink in his large bathroom.

All while his hands attended to the bruise on your neck with a wet cloth, your eyes trailed over the dry blood on his cheek. His words rang through your head, repeating as you somehow managed to get Midoriya’s crying eyes out from your conscious.

‘I planned on taking care of her the way someone like her deserves.’ ‘Maybe if you fucked your girlfriend right, I wouldn’t have had to.’

You gulped, eyes meeting his red ones as you watched the tips of his ears redden and the same scowl he loved to wear ran across his bruised face one again. As you watched him, soon switching positions to attend to the blood on his cheek, your brain raced all over the place yet always came down to the same thought you desperately wanted to push away.

Even after being caught with Bakugou, you didn’t regret it once. Not when you realized Midoriya heard, not when he gripped your neck into Bakugou’s wall as he saw the hoodie, and not when he kicked you out without any second thought.

You didn’t regret the way he made you feel, and it scared you to think that you actually wanted him to have kept going.

—

And we’re going to end it there for the sole purpose of letting you all imagine what happens next 😗 I hope you enjoyed, anon!

[owillofthewisps]

the water i’m wading in

notes: i’m in it now, lads. idk what *gestures at this whole post* this is, but it’s here i guess. this was supposed to be smut lol. probs a bit too soft for geralt but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i just really needed to get this out of my head. imma go scream into my hands ljsldfjsldf

title is from lykke li’s ‘i follow rivers’

rating: teen. fluff, but geralt still has a terrible mouth and also maybe a lil bit melancholy.

pairing: geralt x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.3k

a Witcher’s burden is heavy, and the world’s touch can be exhausting, but you will always let him rest.

He’s tired.

The exhaustion rolls off him like morning mist, soft and suffocating. Geralt drops his spaulders to the floor as you rise from your spot by the hearth.

You had thought you’d seen him as tired as he could get. Thought you’d seen it all - injured, energy depleted, a hunt gone wrong, a creature that was no monster slain without reason - but today, there is a weariness to him that is foreign, a skeleton sketch beneath his skin.

He is a statue come to life, living, breathing stone, hard-edged and heavy and achingly delicate. Statues shatter too, you know, are worn down by the world around them, eroded by existence.

You cross to him quickly, cup his face between your palms. He meets your gaze steadily, the firelight catching on his amber eyes, glazing them soft golden. You ache for him. It’s a low, humming pain, rooted deep inside of you, a bruise that can’t quite heal.

“Are you alright?” you ask quietly.

“I’m fine. Long hunt.”

He isn’t. It wasn’t - it’s been a scant few days since he left. But you don’t need to scrape him to the bone, to cut into the meat of him and make him bleed just for him to tell you what you already know.

You kiss him, pull him to you and drink from his lips. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer, fits you into the curve of his broad frame. His shoulders slump, that mountain range of muscle crumbling just slightly, and sometimes you forget that Geralt wears more armor than most. You sweep a thumb across his cheekbone softly.

“Come,” you say, pulling away. He chases you, one massive hand rough at the nape of your neck, his calloused fingertips striking sparks under your skin, a tinder strike touch. His kiss, though - his kiss is slow, an ember’s soft glow, gentle and steady. You melt into him, weave your fingers through the snowfall drift of his hair.

Geralt teases your breath away with his tongue, steals something from you that you’ve always been willing to give.

“Come,” you say again, whispered against his lips as he rests his forehead against yours. You close your eyes, feel his breath like hearthfire against your lips, all lingering warmth. His thumb traces your jawline, a crescent moon of a scar cut into the thick digit catching against your skin. You tilt your head into his touch, press a kiss against his palm. “Bath, then bed.”

He grunts. You nip at the pad of his thumb.

“No arguing,” you say.

“I didn’t say anything.”

You laugh softly, the sound trickling out of you like wine, full-bodied and rich. “You didn’t need to,” you tell him. “Go.” You nod towards the full copper tub tucked near the hearth.

He goes.

It tells you all you need to know, lets you see that the exhaustion has sunk into the very marrow of him, lines all of his bones. He moves slowly as he undresses, his fingers almost clumsy. His pale skin is warmed by the fire’s glow. You watch the shift of his muscles beneath his skin, swallowing as they cord and flex, a testimony of the raw power he carries in his broad body.

There’s a wine dark bruise spilling across his back, puddling just beneath the thick ridge of his shoulder blade. You should be used to it, you know. You've become an astronomer of sorts, can trace the constellation of scars he’s collected through the years without looking, but the star map of his skin is ever changing, new scars always blooming into being, scattered stark and raised across his body. You will never grow entirely used to it.

You putter around, preparing for an early night. There’s a quiet, familiar crackle of flames, just for a breath. Igni, then. You glance over your shoulder.

Geralt steps into the copper tub and the steam curls up around him, winding up the trellis of his thick thighs before fading into the air. Your breath catches. The firelight throws him into stark relief, kisses golden across his scarred skin, shadows the cut of his hip. It is easy to be blinded by the sheer strength of him, the way his muscles ripple and bunch.

There is more to him, though. There always has been. He sinks into the water, wearing weariness like a cloak, something silken and heavy that lines every inch of him. “Fuck,” he groans, tilting his head back as the water envelops him.

He cracks open an eye as you pad to the washtub. His golden gaze always reminds you of sunlight; you can feel it warm on your skin each time he looks at you.

“Budge up,” you say, stooping to press a kiss at the corner of his lips.  

“Demanding little thing.”

“Yes,” you say, starting to strip.

Geralt grunts, watching with interest as you bare your skin, reaching out to trace wet fingers over the curve of your hip, dipping low to drag his thumb against the crease where your thigh and hip meet.

You pull in a soft breath, the callused pad of his thumb catching on the silk of your skin. Geralt looks up at you, and the softness of the early dawn is in his eyes, those hushed hours when the world belongs to just the two of you tucked secret into his gaze.

“Move,” you chide, nudging at him gently.

He grumbles but sits up to let you settle behind him in the tub. It’s not the most graceful thing you’ve ever done, but it’s worth it to have your thighs bracket his hips, his wet skin slick against yours.

A hush drapes over the two of you like the night sky, encompassing and tender. You pull Geralt’s hair loose, the strands gone silvery at the water’s touch. It flows over your fingers like moonlight. You hum to yourself as you work delicately at the knots, knowing your soft touch unravels more than just the tangles.

Geralt is quiet, but you have long learned to hear the words in his silence.

You coax him forward and sink your soapy hands back into his hair, your fingers slow and firm against his scalp. You dig your thumbs in the wide, knotted column of his neck and drag them up to the base of his skull.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters, his voice thick gravel. You huff a little laugh.

You rinse the lather from his hair slowly. The water slips over him, waterfalls over skin and scars alike. You press a kiss to a ropey scar that winds fat over the ridge of his shoulder, the feel of it familiar and foreign in the same breath, like a dream fading from memory as you wake. You card your fingers through his hair before weaving it into a heavy braid.  It’s an intricate pattern, one that anyone from your village would tease you for, a declaration without words.

Geralt has never asked about it, but you think he knows.

You recline against the tub’s high side, tugging at Geralt gently until he follows you. His broad back is warm against your chest, and you can feel each breath he takes, how it ebbs and flows like the tide. You don’t need words, not right now.

He sinks into you, into the cradle of your body, lets you envelop him like water. You can feel the exhaustion melting into something softer, seeping from him like poison from a wound.

You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, keep him close.

The world makes him weary, you know.

You will always be a place for him to rest.

taglist: @beautifuluniversityhoagieslime @writingstudent  @ayamenimthiriel @bumblingandblooming @sageandberries-png @alwayshave-faith @nonamejustshame @1950schick  @bucksgoat @whitewolfandthefox @tutuwho @inber @mstgsmy @hina-chans-stuff @riviawitch3r @yespolkadotkitty @weaponizedvirtue @raspberrydreamclouds @consultingdetextive @theunwantedomega @restingnurseface @msgeorgiarae @fairytale07

[isshuns]

word dump

untitled kuroken fic in the lex miserables series :’) tw: eating problems, feeling disconnected from oneself, anxiety, idk if there’s depression in this lolol

the realisation that something is wrong with himself comes to kenma one day when hinata invites him to one of the firm’s after-work bonding sessions. 

these bonding sessions usually take place on friday evenings, taking advantage of the happy hour policies of the bar down the street. the usual participants - tora, ryuu, noya, inuoka, lev and hinata - gather by kenma’s door while hinata beams at him expectantly, waiting for his acceptance to an invite that goes rejected every week. 

it’s admirable, really, that hinata tries so hard to include him in the after-work team bonding sessions. it’s a benefit fully paid for by the firm, courtesy of the partners insisting that any costs for team bonding ought to be shouldered by the employers, but kenma is always the last person to ever take advantage of this benefit. it is probably the one single benefit of his employment that he rarely takes advantage of. 

“come on, kenma, it’ll be fun!” hinata grins, radiant like the sun. 

kenma blinks, steals a glance at the time displayed by the corner of his desktop, and sighs.

“sorry, shouyou, not today.” it ought to get easier each passing time he rejects hinata’s offer to drink themselves silly, but somehow it isn’t. the guilt that crawls through his skin consistently makes him sick with anxiety every time.

“it’s okay, next time, kenma! i’ll be sure to get you to come one day!” 

hinata is welcome to try.

hunger faintly registers itself in his brain, but he has no appetite at all. he works backwards to identify his thought patterns for the past few days. he either stress-ate and had more meals per day than he usually did, or he didn’t eat at all despite knowing that he would get hungry the next day, 

if kuroo noticed anything, kenma is only grateful that he hasn’t commented on it at all. 

it feels strange, swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other end back and forth day by day. at the end of the journey, all kenma feels is bone deep exhaustion, bitter hopelessness and a sense of resignation.

on one day, he felt better, and indulged himself with an expensive unagi bento set from the michelin starred sushi restaurant down in roppongi. without digging in yet, he passed by his favourite bakery, saw his favourite apple pies fresh out of the oven, and bought two large slices on impulse. 

kenma ate everything in one go for dinner. in the aftermath, the food he ingested probably washed away all the good cheer he had too. he felt sick, fat, and sluggish with too much food in his now round belly, and desperately wished that his stomach would stay flat forever instead. kenma felt disgusted with himself then, but not to the point he would stick his finger down his throat and purge everything out of his disgestive system. it was a passing thought, one he gave serious consideration to, but did not act on it because kuroo would find out. 

the next day, he somehow felt dissatisfied, craved for the hash browns from mcdonald’s, and bought a breakfast set on a whim. kenma finished the entire meal on the way to work. and then he had lunch with the department, and by the time the sun was setting across the tokyo skyline, he lowkey disliked the feeling of ingesting food so much that he skipped dinner that night and forgoed all proper meals for the remaining days of the week. he survived on one single meal during lunch time, and continued to drown in the loss of appetite.

kenma hates this. he hates his relationship with food. he hates that therapy isn’t helping him to deal with this, that all the coping techniques he’s learned throughout therapy never prepared him for this. his next session with takeda-san is scheduled after another three weeks or so, and kenma is about to fling himself off the tokyo bridge if he has to continue surviving the days like this. 

after hinata leaves, kenma continues to stare at his desktop, a blank expanse stretched across the monitor. he’s supposed to start on the submissions after trial for a case, but the cursor continues to blink and taunt him from the beginning of the blank page. 

quietly, kenma slides open the drawer beside him, and quietly peruses the takeout menu kuroo left on his table last week before he travelled to hokkaido for a week-long trial. the yellow post-it note is still stuck onto the top left corner of the flyer. 

just in case you don’t feel like going out for meals~, it reads. 

it ought to feel endearing, and it would have, but kenma is stuck in some sort of fugue state with no exit in sight. so all he feels is emptiness, and disappointment in himself for failing to appreciate and capture the true emotion the post-it note meant to provide. 

distantly, kenma feels the signs of hunger incoming. all he had for today was one salmon mayo onigiri from the local familymart at ground floor at noon. right now, time has trickled by and is inching closer towards 8pm. with the pandemic, restaurants will close soon. 

i should order something, kenma tells himself, but the lack of appetite overpowers all semblance of rationality, disconnects his thoughts and shuts down his brain. by the time kenma leaves the office, the takeout menu is tucked back into the drawer, out of sight, out of mind.

-----------------------------------

kenma hears the sound of something frying coming from his apartment before he actually smells food in the air. the train leading home was oddly empty today for a friday evening, and kenma had almost the entire carriage to himself. hunger never came back to find him while he stared blankly out of the windows, lost to the static buzzing across his mind.

kuroo is back today, early, his brain tells him unhelpfully as he fishes out his key and unlocks the door, kuroo is cooking.

his mouth waters at the smell of fried oil wafting through the air, but somehow he still doesn’t feel hungry, nor does he feel the need to eat. if he doesn’t exert himself tonight and sleeps early, kenma is confident that he can power through the night without sustenance until lunchtime next morning. 

“welcome home~” kuroo chimes, voice rising above the sizzling sound of hot oil frying in a pan. 

kenma doesn’t need to wait for long before his partner appears before him in the genkan, ridiculous pink apron draped in front of his expensive armani dress shirt as he brandishes a pair of long chopsticks in kenma’s face.

“i cooked dinner.” kuroo declares proudly. because i know you have not eaten yet, goes unsaid.

what should kenma say now? i know, or that’s nice, or perhaps i’m not hungry? which response should he give that would not trigger kuroo to overreact and fuss over his recent lack of appetite? kenma doesn’t want kuroo to worry again. kuroo should only smile, and not have to worry about his wellbeing.

kuroo must have picked up on his mental dilemma, and gives him the easy way out. 

“why don’t you go wash up? i’ll be done in five, then we can eat together.” he smiles, and ducks to peck a chaste kiss on kenma’s forehead before going back to the kitchen.

kenma’s heart twists in guilt. 

when he’s done showering, kenma stands in front of the wardrobe mirror in nothing but kuroo’s oversized shirt hanging off his wiry frame. his face is thinner now, cheek bones more prominent. his fingers travel down from his jawline to press against the collarbones hidden beneath pale skin. 

the hard touch of bones brings him comfort, somehow. with this, kenma will never have to feel disgusted with himself by eating too much and having food fill up his stomach. the sick feeling that he gets from eating one meal too much a day won’t return to haunt him anymore like this. his brain is now quiet, nothing is telling him that he needs to eat, that he needs to pick up the phone to order for food, that he needs to put on decent clothes and walk down the street to get food.

nothing, except kuroo, who is walking up to him this instant, fond expression painted across his handsome features, and planting his large hands over his hipbones.

“have i ever told you how much i love seeing you in my shirt?” kuroo dips his head and presses a kiss against kenma’s shoulder. 

kenma rolls his eyes. kuroo’s smile grows wider, brighter, and he releases him after stroking his thumbs across kenma’s hipbones not once but twice.

“come, kenma,” kuroo leads him to the table, where a bowl of udon and assorted tempura awaits him. kenma’s shoulders drop a little more. 

“eat,” kuroo says.

kuroo takes a seat across him, still smiling, and waits for kenma to start digging in. instead, kenma waits and counts the seconds it would take for that smile to disappear off kuroo’s face. 

in this house, there is no need to pretend to force food down his oesophagus and feel shitty about it later. kenma chooses not to touch his food, just like how kuroo hasn’t touched his either. 

“are you feeling unwell, kenma?” the smile is still there, perched on kuroo’s lips, but kenma notices the way it tightens a little and loses the casualness it once possessed mere seconds ago.

“... no.” 

“are you not hungry?”

kenma fidgets in his seat. how does he tell kuroo that he just doesn’t feel like eating? that he looks at food and his brain doesn’t tell him to consume them for sustenance anymore? 

“yeah. i’m not hungry, sorry, after you cooked and all that.” he says, quietly, like the walls of this house have ears and nowhere is safe for his ugly feelings to go. 

“that’s alright, kenma. you don’t have to be sorry, we can save this for lunch tomorrow.” kuroo gestures vaguely in the air, “we have snacks. eat something. let’s not go to bed on an empty stomach.” 

kenma shrinks further into his seat. he really doesn’t want to eat at all today, for some reason. the thought of food swimming in his stomach makes him feel a little sick. 

“hey, kenma,” kuroo reaches out to touch him, voice soft, “what’s wrong? you can tell me, I won’t be mad.”

kuroo stands from his seat, and comes to sit beside kenma and pull the latter into his arms. he always comes to him, never the other way around. kenma doesn’t know what to make of it, but he feels touched yet guilty at the same time. he knows he should reach out to kuroo more often, reassure him whenever things are looking up, but it’s always kuroo that reaches out first because he knows and understands how difficult it is for kenma step out of his anxiety and take the first step. 

kenma doesn’t deserve kuroo’s love. he will never be worthy of his affections.

“i just... don’t feel like eating. lately.” the last word comes out softer, barely a whisper, but from the way kuroo’s arms tighten around his shoulders, kenma knows kuroo has picked up the intended meaning behind his words. 

“it’s okay to feel that way,” kuroo tells him kindly, “it’s okay.”

“i don’t know why. i just... feel disconnected, somehow, from myself.” 

“thank you for telling me, kenma. what can i do to help?”

kenma wants to cry. well, at least that’s a feeling other than emptiness in him now.

“I don’t know, kuro.”

“we’ll figure it out. it’s okay, we’ll take baby steps, one step at a time. i will be here with you to support you.”

kenma closes his eyes and leans against kuroo’s lean body. he buries his nose into the juncture between kuroo’s neck and shoulder, seeking warmth and comfort. he feels the tension seep out of kuroo’s shoulders when kenma finally reciprocates, knowing that kenma isn’t closing himself off to the world now, to kuroo. the door leading to kenma’s being is still open and nobody has slammed any door closed yet.

kenma sighs.

“thank you,” he says.

[winterromanov]

know it’s for the better - bucky x reader

pairing: college!bucky x reader

part of the will we talk? universe

prompt:  what about college!bucky during quarantine? their school gets shut down... do they stay together? how does it go?

a/n: a repost bc the ‘read more’ fucked up on the ask and idk??? what happened??? but here u go. about 2k words

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know it’s for the better

The semester is not supposed to end like this. No, there are supposed to be parties and laughter and getting wine drunk on the roof, bare legs dangling into New York City. There are supposed to be finals, and library study sessions, and football games in hot, summer rain. There are supposed to be more nights tucked in the twin bed in your dorm room with Bucky’s arm looped round your waist, fingers splayed across your bare skin.

Instead it’s the beginning of March and everything is over. You could feel it coming like storm clouds, black and ominous, hovering on the horizon. The virus has been hovering on your periphery for an embarrassingly long time. As your twitter timeline became more and more scary and the news could talk of little else, it has become frighteningly and anxiously real. Life—everywhere, but particularly in New York—is never going to be the same.

You have no choice but to pack up your little dorm room and return home. Your mom had frantically booked you a flight out, worrying that in less than a week they could be suspended altogether. The virus has been spreading furiously in the city. A place you now call home could be one of the most dangerous places in the world.

And yet…the thought of leaving behind everything so abruptly is killing you. It’s not even school, despite loving it so much. It’s not the college lifestyle or your friends or just having the freedom to waltz wherever you want without fear.

It’s Bucky.

You leave New York, you have to leave him. And God knows how long that might be for.

“Y/N.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper. Bucky has been quietly watching you fill suitcases with clothes, cardboard boxes with belongings. Every so often it looks like he is going to help, but he thinks twice about it, like he can’t bear this is happening. “Y/N…could we, like, stop for a second?”

“My flight leaves first thing in the morning,” you say, refusing to turn and look at him. Your eyes well up as your tear Polaroids and ticket stubs and a sketch Steve did for you from your corkboard, unable to look at those either. They’re just reminders of everything you’re leaving and will never be the same again. “I don’t have time. I just need to get this done, okay?”

“I can’t just keep watching you do this and not talk about what’s going to happen next!”

“Well, maybe you could fucking help, then.”

You never swear, not really, and you can feel Bucky’s expression burning into the back of your skull. Hurt, surprise, desperation. “Let me help. Let me understand what is going through your head.”

“I—I didn’t mean that kind of help, I just need to pack these damn bags…”

Bucky’s hands touch your shoulders. It should feel familiar, his limbs and yours colliding. But he feels like fire. It feels like you’re going to have his handprints burnt into your skin, red and raw, a tattoo of the one real relationship you’ve ever had.

Because he knows just as well as you do that…it’s not going to work, is it? School is over. There is a fucking pandemic going on outside, and you live all the way on the other side of the country whilst he is and always will be a Brooklyn boy. You were supposed to have a whole semester and the summer to sort out what came next, to establish the foundations of your future together, if there was definitely going to be one. And that’s been ripped underneath you like a traumatic tablecloth.

You love him. You love him so fucking much. But is it fair to try and keep going when everything is like this?

“You know my mom and dad would love you to move in,” he says, “You can quarantine with us, see how things go. I just—I just don’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave.”

“Bucky. Please. That’s not fair.” You say, eyes fluttering closed. “We haven’t lived together before and…how do you know we’d work like that? This is serious, and terrifying, and I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

“You don’t feel safe with me?”

At that you turn to face him, seeing the desperate pain in his eyes. You run your hands across his jawline, cupping at his neck. One tear runs across and down your wrist and he looks away, embarrassed. “Sweetheart. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“God. Yeah. I know, darl’. I know.” He kisses your hand softly. “With everything going on, (Y/N), my future feels a lot more certain knowing you’ll still be in it.”

You fall into his chest, inhaling him in. That woody, fresh scent of his cologne, coffee and mint and dark chocolate. You want to wrap yourself up in him and drown. Escape to a place where time is irrelevant, and nothing ever ends.

“I need to be with my family, Bucky. My mom is worried about me. I can’t put her through me staying here, even if I wanted to. And your mom would be the same.”

“I get that. I do. But you’re—you’re making it sound like that we have to break up.” You lean out of his embrace, his tear-filled eyes scrutinising you. “Are…we breaking up?”

Your mouth opens, swinging like a door on a loose hinge as you try and say something. Eloquence usually comes to you easy, when talking about the books you read for class. It’s one of the things Bucky first noticed about you, your fervent love for language. But there are no words for this. Just empty, agonising silence.

“Why do we have to break up?” He asks, voice cracked in two like a broken porcelain vase. “Why is that what you immediately resort to? There are thousands of ways we could make this work. Starting with the fact that I love you. Is that not enough to even try?”

You pause. Your room, once your safe haven, now feels torturous and unbearable. Suffocating. You bite your lip, tears burning behind your eyelids. “I would love to say yes, Bucky, but I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to be a few weeks down the line, you here and me in Colorado, finding out that it hasn’t worked and it isn’t enough and we have to break up over fucking Skype or…I don’t know, slowly ghost each other into nothingness? I would a million times over rather end it here where I love you than then where I don’t.”

“That is the worst logic I’ve ever heard. Literally the worst. You are assuming the absolute worst of both of us, and…” he runs a frantic hand through his hair. “You know what, if that’s what you think, maybe you’re right. If you have that little faith in me—us—now, maybe we should call it quits.”

“Bucky—”

“I’m going to leave. Have a good trip home.” He looks around your room for one last second but does not meet your gaze. “Have a really fucking good trip home.”

Bucky hovers for a moment by the door, like he’s waiting for one last glimmer of hope. That you might ask him to stay because even…even after all that, he still would drop everything for you to say stay.

But you don’t. The door reverberates loudly in the frame on his way out.

-

You don’t break down, which surprises you. For a little while after he leaves, when you try to immerse yourself in packing and singing along to Taylor Swift from your speaker, you think that it’s for the best. It is, it is, because it can’t work and it won’t work and this will save pain further down the line.

But the hours pass and silence creeps in to your now empty, echoing dorm room, absent of the vibrant life that once occupied it and—your heart feels wrong. This is not freeing, or a relief. This is not the ending you wanted.

You go to get a shower and Bucky’s sports towel is hung over one of the empty cubicles. You turn the tap as hot as it can get it, drowning the whole room in steam and something switches within you. The tears start and they refuse to stop, wracking your body like convulsions.

You fucked it. You well and truly fucked one of the only things that could have got you through all of this, even if you’re over a thousand miles away. It’s like Bucky said. The future is uncertain and scary and untenable, but it feels a hell of a lot more definite with him in it.

You wrap yourself in your towel and walk back into the corridor. Wiping your eyes, there’s a shape in a red jersey hovering next to your door.

“Bucky?”

He turns, his jaw tight and eyes rimmed with red. “Y/N.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else. You run over to him, grabbing fistfuls of him desperately, like he’s going to flare and fade from you forever. His arms wrap around you with equal vigour, warm and panicky and home.

“I didn’t mean it.” You say, your words swallowed up by his ribcage. “Dear God, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it.”

You can feel him sob, body trembling in your arms. “Thank God.”

“I don’t know what will happen next. I haven’t got a fucking clue. But I know I want you there, okay? However it turns out.” You bring his lips down for a kiss tinged with hot water and steam, relief and pure, young, beautiful love. Your foreheads gently rest together. Another quick kiss. “I love you. I love you.”

He kisses you again, like he’s trying to fit in as many as he can. Like he’s packing them all into a suitcase for you to relive, one by one by one, when you’re at home and everything feels like its crumbling.

It will never crumble completely. You know this, because James Buchanan Barnes is your foundations, and he made it pretty fucking clear on day one when he grinned at you in sophomore year Russian lit. You both love novels because you love stories. You love beginnings and ends and everything in between, the climaxes and the romances, murders and death and life—you love breaking apart character, brutally analysing fictional lives and motives. But most of all, you love the feeling of watching characters you adore falling completely and utterly in love. You have spent years trying to define your favourite love story amongst the hundreds you’ve read, but you never thought—

All that time, all you had to do was wait.

send me a request

[unholyplumpprincess]

Good Boy

For Anon who asked: nnnnot sure if this is a full prompt or not but. bloodhound realllly teasing gibralter? like. edging consistently for a week or so till all gib can think about it bein a Good Boy for bloodhound? idk if thats smth ud be into w those two BUT

Gibhound is my weakness and I wrote more than a drabble oopsie daisy!!!

Reblogs > Likes

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Gibraltar/Bloodhound

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Gibraltar gets his dick sucked like he’s gonna die, orgasm denial and edging mentioned, face fucking, Bloodhound’s various body mods mentioned (piercings + Tattoos), calling someone a good boy, kinda d/s in case that ain’t ya style!

Words: 1.5k

________________

Bloodhound had the patience of a god.

What more could you expect from the apex predator? A hunter renowned even among the very gods they worshipped? Patience was one of their strongest attributes. It took patience to hunt, it took patience to analyze a potential mate, and it took patience to successfully woo said mate into being theirs.

Not that Makoa was anything but a prize to be won, truly a beautiful specimen that they adored with all their heart. They had wooed him with soft letters and gentle words, carefully opening their heart to him as he did his arms to them. A home made in the shape of a man with the biggest heart they’d ever seen.

And yet, patience may have been delicious to receive during their romantic months- Makoa, in turn, did not like their patience for things in the bedroom.

~Rest under the cut~

A week. A full week they would bring him to the edge in bed. They liked to tease him, insisting on pushing all the right buttons. Kissing his neck, biting his ear, growling in it and grinding their hips into his as they rested atop his lap. Makoa would beg, grab their hips with desperation and encourage them to keep going, dry hump up into them and whine about how unfair they were being.

They would always murmur for him to let go, licking up his neck to nibble at his jawline and lift their hips up so Makoa would be forced to shake and shudder. Leaking in his pants and choking on a sob of need as Bloodhound would kiss him gently and ease him back into a normal, but desperate state.

Bloodhound loved to edge him. It was a game, really, and Makoa became in tune with everything they did. In the arena, it was even more torturous if they were the one coming after him. He’d just feel the need to bare his throat when they climbed atop him, gently resting their foreheads together and cooing about how they won before using their hatchet to end him personally.

And he’d wake up in the medical bay, hard, in tears and have to take a cold shower.

Bloodhound knew what they were doing. But furthermore, they had consent. Before they even began this teasing, they had asked if it was something he thought he could handle. Makoa, loving a challenge, had eagerly agreed and said how hard could it be!

Day three is when he had started to realize how bad they meant to tease him.

Seven days in, Bloodhound is just now coming from the shower. They have a sports bra on and their gray sweatpants hanging low on their wide hips. Their tattoos, scars, almost everything on display on their glistening skin. They have their hair pulled up into a ponytail, still dry from not washing it this time around with a few curls framing their face. They look beautiful and deadly as they pad into the bedroom, only to glance over at the bed where Makoa rests.

He’s naked. His own wavy hair curling around his face and free of his bun. His hands rest in his own hair, gripping with his legs slightly spread to show his hard, fat cock resting against his abdomen.

Just like Bloodhound had left him.

Before they’d showered, they’d worked him up, grinding in his lap before cooing about needing a shower and told him to wait for them. If he waited, they would reward him greatly.

“What a good boy. Did you not touch yourself at all?” They croon like a preening bird, stalking closer to the bed as Makoa whimpers and lightly shakes his head. His fingers tighten in his hair, his shut eyes parting open to peek down at them where they slide between his legs.

One clawed hand gently cups his balls, hearing his breath hitch as their own full lips quirk in a dangerous grin. They let their thumb gently follow the seam, up to his cock where their other hand wraps around the base and gives a fluid stroke.

Immediately Makoa’s hips lurch up- desperate for their touch as he chokes on a cry. “Fuck, baby-” He practically sobs, turning his head to the side and full body shuddering. He’s far too pent up, too sensitive, it all felt far too good.

“Perhaps,” Bloodhound gently chuckles back, “But I fear you are too sensitive for such an event...I did promise you a reward, though, my love, and you shall receive.”

Their words are promising as they shift to gently tug at Makoa. He follows until he can sit on the edge of the bed, watching them move to the floor to rest on their knees. Helplessly his cock jerks when they reach up to tighten their ponytail, tucking a loose strand of hair behind their pierced ear to prepare.

“Hound...” He murmurs adoringly, watching them as Bloodhound peeks up at their nickname, cocking their head to the side in that puppy-like manner they always did. Except their eyes gleam with mischief as they hum fondly back at him.

When they stroke his cock to pull back foreskin and reveal the flushed head, their full lips wrap around the head of his cock and the sight alone makes Makoa cry out. His hands immediately fly for their head, but he only rests a hand encouragingly at the base of their ponytail just to hold. The other grabs at the sheets next to his hip, his head falling forward so he doesn’t miss the show.

They’re always so pretty like this. Treating his cock like a treat as they suckle on the head, pulling off to lick down the base and coming right back up. Sometimes they part their mouth to show their glinting double canines, sticking out their pierced tongue and gently slapping his cock on their tongue, leaving a string of pre-cum attached that they greedily lick up.

Makoa is sensitive and they know it, making a show of it as they gently cup his balls and squeeze. One hand stroking his cock as their cheek rests against the shaft and they coo up at him, “Such a good boy. You have been so good for me all week. Letting me do whatever I wished.”

The praise gets him, his hips jerking up but only succeeding in smearing pre-cum across their cheek and making them filthy. The sight alone is enough to make him whimper, seeing them disheveled always did something to him. Especially when they tilt their head to the side to nose at his cock, parting their lips to lick heavily across the head.

“Consider this your reward. You may use me how you like.” They murmur against his silken flesh, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to the head and near making Makoa cum right then and there if it wasn’t for the red hot desire coursing through him.

With shaking fingers he guides them by their ponytail to the head of his cock. Letting them lap and suckle there before gently pressing down to feel their resistance. When he finds none, he whimpers and pushes them down until they’re about halfway down on his cock. There’s a small adjustment where Makoa stands up, letting Bloodhound scoot back a bit and curl their fingers on his thighs to brace themself.

When Makoa starts fucking their mouth, they make the prettiest face with their eyebrows knitted and eyes half lidded as they look up at him. They paw at his thighs, clawing with soft whines in their own throat that can hardly be heard over the sound of his groans and grunts.

“Yes- shit, just like that.” Makoa whines out, hips slapping forward once and making Hound’s nose bury in his mound. Their fingers scrabble briefly, relaxing their throat to let him remain buried. The sight of their lashes fluttering and their cheeks flushed does it for him.

When he cums, he does so with a cry of ‘Thank you’s. His face twists beautifully in pleasure, tucking his head to the side as his eyebrows knit and his hips jerk weakly. After the first two jerks he pulls from their throat, whimpering under his breath when they know exactly what he wants. Their lips part again, sticking out their tongue where he grip his own cock, resting the head there and cumming all across their canines and tongue. His other hand stroking their hair with Makoa’s desperate whimpers softening.

Exhausted and overstimulated, Makoa plops back onto the bed with a shudder and his entire body looking way less taut than before. He briefly makes out the feeling of kisses up his legs and thighs before Bloodhound is joining him on the bed, pressing their lips together and making Makoa taste himself on their mouth.

His cock gives another interested twitch when they part, Bloodhound’s chuckle resounding in his ear as they nip the lobe. “Who owns you, my love?”

Makoa lets out a soft laugh in turn, too weak to come up with something witty as he turns his head and pecks their nose.

“You. Every bit of me.”

“Good boy.”